Living a Lie
by Renee.Hills
Summary: When after a heartbreaking affair the monsters of her past arise, Bella promises herself a fresh start without any relationships. When his wife wishes to move to Seattle, Edward willingly obliges. Their worlds collide in the most unexpected time and their forbidden love is destined for fall. Not your usual BxE love story. AU, AH, OOC. Canon pairings.
1. Prologue - This Was The End

This story will be accompanied by soundtrack.

1\. James Blunt - Goodbye My Lover

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PROLOGUE

 **This Was The End**

 _Thursday, October 17, 2013_

"Bella?"

I heard his soft voice filled with fear and desperation, but I didn't turn around. I squeezed my eyes shut to prevent tears from falling over the edge, but my attempt was vain. I couldn't contain the pain anymore.

"Bella, please," he was pleading. "Please, baby, don't go."

I started sobbing. Really? Was my new-found emotional instability going to make it even worse than it already was?

I felt his gentle touch on my arm. "Bella, love, look at me, please. Just look at me."

Fuck. I couldn't fight his touch. He gently turned me to face him, but I refused to look up. He was still holding my arm and with his other hand, he pulled my chin up. When my gaze met his, I lost everything I had to fight him, every argument and every reason for leaving. When I saw those eyes, now slightly coated with a liquid glaze, that saw every fucking corner of my heart and soul, I couldn't find a single word to say, that major reason why we needed to say goodbye. Fuck. How much I loved this man? I would die for him.

"You can't leave me, Bella, you are… you are the only thing that matters to me."

I looked away to compose myself and then looked up, because I had to say something. "No, I am not."

His brows furrowed, and I saw how much he wanted to argue, but couldn't. Because I was right. I wasn't the only thing.

"My love, please, just…" he lost his words, his hand going into his hair.

"Just let me go, Edward," I mumbled, looking away, because part of me wanting the exact opposite. "Just let me go, don't make this more painful than it needs to be."

He pulled me to his chest and I should fight him but - to be honest - I didn't particularly want to. There was no strength in me and no willingness because I knew very well that this might have been the last time I felt his protective embrace, the last time I could smell him, the last time I could enjoy this kind of intimacy. His hand rested on my head, while the other stroke my back. I felt his lips in my hair.

And I started crying like a baby. With noises, sobs and big fat tears now all over his linen shirt.

"I can't…" he breathed. "I can't let you go, baby."

"You know I have to go."

"No, you don't."

"Edward, please…"

"Fuck, Bella!" he cursed, but there was no anger. We had argued already. He knew there was no other way.

We knew it.

This was the goodbye.

This was the end.

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A/N Dear readers, this is actually my first story. I probably passed the biggest craziness around the Twilight fanfic, but I hope there will be some souls who appreciate it and leave a review or two. I welcome constructive criticism and some tips and tricks ;) I know, this prologue doesn't tell much, but it's necessary. See ya!


	2. This Oddly Uncomfortable Position

2\. Rihanna - What Now

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CHAPTER 1

 **This Oddly Uncomfortable Position**

 _A year ago_

 _Saturday, October 20, 2012_

I was trying to find the key to my apartment in my purse, but I couldn't see a shit. I was sure I had put it in there. "Damn." I plunged my hands to the pockets of my coat and… hey! _There you are!_

I had _certainly_ put it in the purse.

The hallway was dark and my considerably drunk condition made it that much harder to fit the key in the lock. "Come on, baby, just enter the hole," I giggled at my stupid sexual reference. Oh, god, the fact that I was talking to myself was alarming enough.

When after a hundredth attempt I managed to open the door, there was no way for me to enter my apartment like a normal person. I got dizzy as I straightened up from my slight bend as I had tried to open the door, and tripped over, landing loudly and directly on my face.

"Fuck," I muttered. Alcohol obviously desensitized my nervous system, the decision to stretch out my hands and prevent the unfortunate landing came to the centre of my brain when I was already on the floor. I lay there for a few seconds as if to figure out what to do next. When my serious contemplation about nothing was done, I managed to get up and switch the lights on. Strong yellow rays blinded me for a while. I went to the kitchen because I really didn't feel like sleeping. _No, nooo way!_

I opened the refrigerator and found the bottle of red wine I had opened with Rose just a few days ago. Why it was still there? Alcohol didn't usually last long in this household.

"Come to mommy," I sighed contently as I continued my self-rambling and poured the red liquid into the glass. I sat on the stool and opened the laptop I had left on the kitchen table before I went out. Rose and Alice were smiling at me widely from the screen and suddenly I knew exactly what I was going to do.

 _I am going to update my blog._

It had been some time since I wrote anything. But tonight, I felt "incredulously pathetic" as Alice had put it earlier and even though I didn't want to admit it, she had been right. As she usually was, to my dislike.

Of course, I didn't publish anything under my real name. _Pleaaeeese!_ I was too much of a coward to do anything like this. I had created an anonymous blog and the name I was using was Romy West. Rose joked around that it sounded like a porn name, whilst Alice knew better. I chose _West_ because of my infatuation with Kanye West's music and name _Romy_ because I was a big fan of an Austrian actress Romy Schneider. How the hell did I know an Austrian actress? Well, it was my Mom with whom I had been watching her movies where she was portraying an Austrian Empress _Sissi_. My Mom loved European history…

I took a sip before I allowed my mind to go any further into the forbidden territory. Alice and Rose were the only ones who knew about my true identity and usually just teased me about it. Bitches. But they loved it and usually put a couple of stupid comments under my posts.

The blog was nothing else but my personal diary I was using to whine and complain about my poor existence. I didn't really care about stats or numbers.

I typed _,_ logged in, clicked on _new post,_ and stared at the white blank space before me. I took another sip of wine and since I had promised myself that this was going to be the honest and raw mirror of my fucked-up self, I knew immediately what I needed to write.

 _Blog n. 68_

 _20_ _th_ _October 2012_

 _I have never thought I would find myself in this oddly uncomfortable position. In the position I thought I would never push myself into, not even for the most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. Love. The one that makes you do things you swore you would never do. The one that pushes you to be in that oddly uncomfortable position that puts you in even bigger pain in the end. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of love. Not even then. And I am not talking (only) about anal sex here._

 _But you know, life happens._

 _And, eventually, you end up doing a lot of things in your life that you swore you would never do._

 _Ever._

 _Because that's who we are. We, humans. We pride ourselves in so many things, yet many of us fail to realise how unpredictable and unstable we are. We change our minds all the time. Because of various reasons. We decide, and then we decide again. And many times it benefits us, and we are so glad we made that right decision. And many times we decide and our decision carries the most_ _undesirable consequences. We regret, we_ _maybe hate ourselves for a while, and then eventually move on with a hope that the next decision would be the right one. And usually it is._

 _Some of us are like that. And I secretly admire you._

 _But some of us are so afraid of bad decisions that they rather don't make any._

 _Ladies and gentlemen, I present you pathetic and greatly unsatisfying existence of Romy West, the master in settling and accepting other's people crap._

 _Ten years ago, I settled for being a teacher._

 _A teacher. *_ _rolling eyes_ _*_

 _The first thing on my list of the things I swore I would never do._

 _Ever._

 _So, as you all already know, I am fucked-up._

 _I can't be mend. I was not that strong woman who puts her mind into something and achieves it. I know I could've been if I had not been afraid. I was born to live my dream, but I gave up. And my fragile soul and heart could not be mend…._

Oh, god, did I really write _fragile soul_? I need more wine.

 _And, as you already know, I love sex. And alcohol. And everything in between because it makes me forget. And I have never really been the fan of relationships, my parents had one that was basically non-existent and the one I had like… eight years ago left me aching and heartbroken._

 _In the end, years after giving up, I find myself in love. (Hah.) I was in love before. But this. This is the most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of love.  
And I am holding onto it like a crazy person, because it makes me feel alive. It makes me feel Me again at least to a certain extent. That Romy that gave up on her dreams and feels like a piece of shit._

 _What is the problem, you ask. Because, there is. Well, I'll tell you. Remember how I told you about the way you end up making bad decisions? This has been the biggest one since I settled for this unfulfilling life for me._

 _I fell in love with a married man and a father of three adorable girls. And the oldest one happens to be in my class._

 _I entered the relationship because it made me feel alive and forget the pain, the unhappiness and the episodes of depression I had been getting more and more lately. He charmed me in a way I never expected any man to charm me. And I fell for him. I think he fell for me as well, but who knows?_

 _His wife is beautiful, though. Terrifying, but beautiful. And this is another reason why I don't understand his need for me, an average Jane. Well, Romy in my case._

 _I just know, for sure, I have said I am never going to cheat or to be the one someone is cheating on someone with. Is that sentence grammatically correct? (I can't tell, too much wine.)_

 _I despised those people, I hated when they said that things are 'complicated'. My old romantic self would never even think about that. She would categorically dismiss even the thought of being someone's lover._

 _Ever._

 _But you know, life happens, right? And my old romantic self died ages, ages ago. And even though this situation is messy and confusing and hurting me, I can't stop. I don_ _'_ _t think of the consequences of my decision. I don_ _'_ _t care. I love him._

 _I told you, I am a mess._

 _I fell in love. On of the most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of love. The one that makes you do things you swore you would never do. The one that pushes you to be in that oddly uncomfortable position that puts you in even bigger pain in the end._

 _Like anal sex, for example._

 _Take care, people. I hope I won't regret this post in the morning._

 _Your highly drunk Romy._

I hit _post_ and drank that last drop of wine. I was gazing at the screen for a minute or two, my brain empty as it usually was after I had poured my heart out. And I would just absent-mindedly stare at the screen even longer, but my vision started to blur and I knew it was time to finally put my drunk ass to bed.

Not bothering to even take of my shoes, I fell onto bed and with the last drop of strength I managed to pick up the phone to check the time. 4.17. There was a text I had received earlier tonight. I squeezed my eyes to see who it was from. It was from him, from that man I fell for so hard.

 _Hey, honey, having a free morning. Breakfast at your place? – James._

Yeah.

I was _so_ fucked-up.

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A/N I guess it _'_ s not exactly what you expected, but things are gonna get a little bit more complicated before we meet Edward. Bella is in one _really_ messy place right now and I need to push her a little closer to the edge. Well, you _'_ ll see. I hope Alice and Rose will bring a little bit of fun into this whole thing. I think this whole story is going to be in Bella _'_ s POV. Thank you all for the reviews so far! You _'_ re great, stay with me :) R.


	3. This Must Have Meant Something Right?

**Disclaimer: I do** **n't own the characters. Stephenie Meyer does, the storyline is mine :)**

 **Enjoy. R.**

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3\. Adele - Crazy For You

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CHAPTER 2

 **This Must Have Meant Something... Right?**

 _Wednesday, October 24_ _, 2012_

"Oh my god, Bella, I can't believe you're still fucking that douchebag," Alice whined as she was sipping her wine. "No, sorry, let me update. I can't believe you're in love with him. Are you _completely_ out of your mind?"

"You know what, Alice? Fuck off," I said and tried to pretend that her comment didn't hurt. I was glad she didn't see my face, I was turned with my back to her, washing dishes after dinner.

But Alice knew me better than that. "Sorry, Bella. Really," her voice softened. "But can't you see? He doesn't strike me as a relationship material. And not just because he is married, if you haven't noticed…"

"Alice, shut the fuck up," said Rose. "Let it go already. Bella obviously feels something more, and James wouldn't bother if he didn't feel something, too. Furthermore," I heard her smile in this cheeky way of hers, "Bella already told us that in terms of thickness and length he is more than competent, so? Let her have fun…"

"Rosalie, not everything is about sex and size." I was sure Alice rolled her eyes.

"Is it not?" I heard her smile. "Well, Emmett would tell you otherwise."

"I must admit you two found each other, seriously. I never saw any couple hornier than the two of you and for how long have you been together already? Three years? "Alice asked. I filled my glass with wine once more and joined them at the kitchen table that was situated right in the middle of the kitchen. It wasn't big, but it was enough for me.

"I can't wait to marry him, you know? To be really _his,"_ Rosalie beamed. Rosalie was a headmaster's assistant at the elementary school where I and Alice were teaching and she was engaged to Emmett. He was a physician and he specialized in the pain management which I thought was quite ironic, given the fact he could very easily inflict a lot of pain… Emmett was huge. He looked like a rugby player with his broad and muscular shoulders and large biceps. I saw him only a handful of times, he was working all the time, but he made an impression every time I met him.

I smiled. Even though Alice was right - those two could be caught eye-fucking each other even after three years of relationship - I hadn't seen a couple so much in love as those two. "When is the wedding then? Do you have a date?"

Rosalie's smile widened even more. "Actually, we do."

"What?" Alice shrieked. "And you're telling us only now?"

"Calm down, Alice," Rosalie laughed. "I just found out today as well. Emmett has a very good friend, some buddy from medical school whose mother is a very well-known event planner, and since I wanted to have the wedding at the Edgewater Hotel in the spring, he called that famous Mrs Cullen. She pulled some strings and the next thing I know is that we have reserved the Edgewater Hotel! In the spring! Unbelievable… when I called, they just said there was nothing free in the spring. But who would want a wedding in Seattle in the middle of November?" she frowned at the thought. "Anyway, I have to thank that Mrs Cullen personally when I meet her."

"But what is the date, Rosalie?" I asked, still laughing at her excitement.

"The 24th of May, next year!"

"Wow, congratulations, Rose!" I hugged her.

"Just make sure there is enough alcohol," Alice said. "You know how demanding your bridesmaids can be," Alice winked at me.

Rosalie frowned. "You won't get wasted at my wedding, bitches. It's my wedding, not a Friday night. For teachers you are incredibly promiscuous." Oh, Rosalie was right.

"Because we are bitches in the first place," Alice retorted but I could tell it was wine talking.

Rosalie rolled her eyes.

It was a Wednesday night and this meant dinner at my, Rosalie's or Alice's place. This week was my turn. And because it was also a school night, there was no fun involved. Just the three of us, lasagna and two bottles of wine. Which was enough to make Alice tipsy tonight. But she had barely eaten anything anyway.

We, bitches, had a strange relationship. Not too personal, yet very relaxed. Each of us was very different, but we managed to always have fun and hold each other's hair when one of us started vomiting before she got home. Alice had been my friend since I moved to Seattle permanently. We'd met at the elementary school in Seattle where I was offered a place after I had graduated from University of Washington. I was now teaching second graders, sweet and honest kiddos, but Alice on the other hand, was teaching sixth graders, a very noisy, pre-pubescent and naughty bunch of kids, if you ask me. Although she looked like she was one of them, short and energetic, she always managed to handle them. I had only one opportunity to see her in a class, and man, this woman was like a general. A year or so later, Rose had become a headmaster's assistant. Alice and Rose had known each other before, so Rose started to hang out with us and we clicked immediately. And the cool thing about it was that Emmett didn't really mind that much when Rose was going out with us during weekends sometimes because he often worked long shifts at the hospital. He was glad we took care of her.

Alice on the other hand dated, but nothing ever worked out. She was a hopeless romantic that one, but with a terribly dirty mind and no one was ever good enough for her. It sometimes looked like she led a double life, like she had two personalities in one body. She was that sweet, polite teacher in work and when we were alone, she let herself loose and became finally relaxed. I sometimes wondered how someone so tiny could be so… complex and unpredictable. Well, you can say I was the same regarding the duality of our lives, I guess. But… no. I was much less polite to parents and our colleagues than Alice. I was in every aspect anti-social when it came to those dumb colleagues of ours or some really ignorant parents. I knew that my decision to become a teacher was a result of a very fucked-up childhood, but I knew Alice didn't enjoy being a teacher that much either. I had never asked Alice why she had become a teacher and she'd never offered an explanation. Besides, I wasn't exactly offering to share my own story, she only knew bits and pieces here and there, like why I chose name Romy for my blog. We didn't ask questions, not even after they read some reference to my past in my blog. And that's why we were so comfortable around each other.

I believed that the only thing that we cared about in school were the kids. They were sometimes fun to be around, they were always able to surprise us and I liked their honest random ramblings. But most of all, I liked the blank canvas of their future. Everything was in their hands and I kind of wished I had my canvas blank as well.

So, Rosalie was the engaged one, Alice was the romantic one and they would say I was the bitchy one. Most of the time, anyway. They had to put up with me and my sexual conquests all the time. I think we got along so well because we respected each other's choices, even though we didn't agree with them sometimes. Though Alice was a real pain in the ass regarding James. I would expect Rosalie to bitch about my choice. Not that I care what they think.

"But, Bella," Alice started again, eyeing me seriously, "just be careful, 'kay?"

I rolled my eyes. "I am not gonna listen to this, Alice. Why does it bother you who I sleep with?"

"I don't know, I have this strange feeling or something."

"What feeling?" asked Rosalie.

"I don't know…That she's gonna end up hurt. I can't shake it off."

Well, there was something about that statement. After all, he _was_ married. I was the intruder.

"Alice, I'm a big girl."

"Your blog post wasn't that optimistic," she noted.

I raised my brows. "Alice, I was drunk."

Alice chuckled. "Oooh, where is that sweet Bella that fucked around just for the sake of being able to fuck? Where is that Bella whose kinky blog I loved to read so much? Your post has never been more pathetic," concluded Alice.

Rose laughed. "True, true… I wasn't even sure if it was you."

I swallowed and got really pissed off. "Just shut up. Both of you. If you don't want to read it, then don't."

They both looked at me surprised, a little taken aback.

"Sorry, hon, it's just this whole depression thing made you strange recently," said Rosalie carefully. "I mean, I am glad that James makes it better, and I told you that Emmett can get some help if you-"

"I don't need any help," I cut her off. "Shrinks are crazy themselves. I am okay now."

They both eyed me, exact mirror reflections of each other, and didn't believe a word. What did I care?

"Just be careful, 'kay?" repeated Alice. "I am not judging him or anything… just… I don't know."

"Yes, Alice, you already expressed yourself quite clearly, thank you very much," I said harshly. What was wrong with them lately? They never gave a fuck about me and my life.

Although... everything had changed in May when I hadn't come to work on Monday and then hadn't showed up for next two days. No one had been able to contact me. Alice, however, had had a spare key from my apartment, because I always wanted someone to have it in case I lost mine. I didn't really remember what had happened. Or I didn't want to remember. We had gone out on a Saturday night, just the three of us. I had drank a lot, more than usual, and as usual, I'd ended up bringing home some guy whose name I didn't remember now, let alone then. We had had sex, obviously, and as I had started to get sober – ironically – things had started to get blurry. I didn't remember _what_ exactly had happened, yet I remembered _why_ and what I _felt._ The guy had reminded me of someone I didn't want to remember, someone I had pushed away in my mind many years ago, someone who was largely responsible for the mess I was in. I'd got into some kind of rage and anger and I must have screamed a lot and cried a lot, because the next thing I remembered was that I had woken up alone with a terribly sore throat and big red puffy eyes. Everything that had happened afterwards had been like a chain reaction. I had cried a lot, thought about killing myself, not willing to move or go anywhere. The world around me had stopped existing once again in my life and I hated myself that much more for allowing myself to go into that dark place again. For allowing myself to _feel again_. Alice had found me in bed, asleep, hugging a bottle of vodka. She had told me she'd called Rose immediately and they both had taken care of me. After I got sober again, I had begged them not to take me to hospital or report it to the employer. I had been terribly ashamed and now exposed and vulnerable in front of them. They didn't ask much, because they saw I wasn't comfortable with talking about it, but I had to tell them about that part of my past where I had battled depression. There was no other way.

So, ever since then, Rose dropped a hint sometimes about Emmett and his connections at the hospital he worked in and how they could help me get better. But I didn't need to get better. I was fine. It was just… one-time occasion. Yes, I wasn't feeling okay since then, but just a few weeks after that, I met James and he made me feel better. Much better. But that equally confused and worried me as well for completely different reasons.

In a way, I agreed with Alice… where was that Bella that just didn't really give a fuck? About anything other than those kids at school?

I missed her ignorance.

"Did he tell you he feels something more, too? I mean, you weren't exactly specific in your blog post about that part," said Rosalie.

I cringed again. Couldn't they just drop it? "No, not directly," I admitted. "There were some hints but… you know, he has a wife and kids… I can't expect him to just say it that easily," I defended him quickly.

"Did you even say it?" asked Alice.

"No."

They were quiet for a while and after that, the conversation shifted to Jessica Stanley who was teaching fifth grade and had obviously great problems with her kids since they had glued her butt to the chair the other day. Bitch never saw anything good in those kids. She deserved it.

Alice and Rose left my apartment and I was once again left to my own devices. I was glad they came, but even gladder they were gone so I could just look at the short stories my kids had written at school today. I cleaned up the kitchen, brushed my teeth, put on just an old t-shirt I usually slept in, and took the papers with me into the bedroom. I put some Kanye on and didn't even get past the second story when there was a knock on the door.

Did Alice or Rose forget something?

I warily stood up, not sure who to expect. It was late and I didn't see anything in the kitchen of Rose's or Alice's. I unlocked the door and peeked a little only to be surprised by no one else but James standing at the door, with a bottle of wine and that wicked smile of his. He looked great, wearing light blue jeans and expensive looking beige sweater that was hiding the dragon tatoo on his ribs.

"James? What the hell are you doing here?" I opened the door completely, still mildly shocked. He usually called before he stopped by and it was rarely on a work day.

"Enthusiastic, aren't we?" he replied, still smiling, obviously pleased with himself. When I didn't reply because I was still a little bit in awe and thinking that Rose and Alice had left just twenty minutes ago, he stepped into the apartment, pressing his lips hungrily to mine. His mouth and lips tasted of whiskey and cigarettes. So, I wasn't the first stop. But despite the initial repulsion it took me only two seconds to respond. He was here. On Wednesday. That had to mean something, right? He wanted to surprise me.

I pressed myself to him, his right hand encircling my waist. I put my hands on the back of his neck, under his blond ponytail, pulling his head to me. I was taking everything he was giving me.

Yes! I needed this so much.

I had no idea, where the bottle disappeared because he lifted me up and he needed both hands to do that. I wrapped my legs around his hard, sculpted torso, more out of habit than as the result of passion. We did this so many times and so many times we didn't even get to bed.

He was rough and fierce, but I didn't mind. He knew I liked it that way. I liked the pain. It made me forget. He was drunk as well, so he wasn't even very careful, but I wasn't particularly sober myself. I was now pressed against the wall in the living room and his lips moved to my neck so we could breath. He was sucking and biting my neck and I was moaning in pleasure. I pulled his hairband down – his hair now free - and dug my fingers into his scalp.

He groaned. "I missed your filthy little fingers."

I panted. "Did you?"

He broke the contact between me and the wall only to push me to the wall again with even more force. I squeaked in surprise.

He chuckled and looked into my face. He lowered me down a bit and now I felt his hard cock pressed directly to my, now very wet, sex. I loved it so much when he was like that. When he was brutal almost. "I missed your filthy little mouth," he said in a very husky voice, his eyes filled with lust. He kissed me again, our tongues pressing and pulling, our lips sucking and teeth biting.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuuuck. I was hot and wet… and I needed him inside me. Now.

I tried to create as much friction as I could in this not convenient position for me, but James took a hint and pressed his hardness directly to the place I needed him to again and again. "Fuck," I moaned, my back hurting. I was going to be so sore tomorrow…

He chuckled again, looking directly into my eyes. "Do you want me to fuck you, Isabella, huh?"

I didn't even blink. "Yes, James, I want you to fuck me," I said in a low but firm voice.

He quickly managed to open the clasp on his belt and I heard the jeans fell on the floor. Since I was wearing just my t-shirt and panties, it wasn't very difficult for him to get where he needed to. He ripped them off of me and I squeaked again. _Wow, now we're ripping our clothes off._ I loved it.

This whole time he was gazing directly into my eyes. Oh, god, it was so sexy. Such a turn on. He was like an almighty god of all evil fuckers out there. And he was fucking _me_. God, I loved him.

"I missed your filthy little Bella," he said as his thick cock entered me brusquely and we both groaned. He was pounding into me like an animal, fast, but our eye contact never broke off. God. Oh, fuck!

"Oh, fuck," I said out loud.

He groaned. "Christ, Bella, you're always so tight."

"Do you like it?" I managed to breathe.

He didn't respond, he was close. I saw it on his face. I unclasped one hand from behind his neck and touched my clit bringing myself closer to the climax. He groaned and I screamed because I loved loud and rough sex and I was surprised the wall behind my back hadn't crumbled yet. When I started to tighten around him in an anticipation of my own orgasm, he got even faster. The change of expression on his face made it. I screamed in an ecstasy and just a second or two later I felt his load blow inside of me. He groaned loudly, just as I loved it and we panted as if we just completed a race.

In a way, we did.

"Fuck, Bella," he mumbled, his icy blue eyes closed and he rested his forehead on my shoulder.

"Fuck, James," I chuckled, but I meant it. Fuck… Better than any fantasy I had. "You can do it more often."

"What?"

"Just turn up out of the blue and fuck me," I said, but now, as the lust was disappearing, I wanted to look him in the face and kiss him. I missed him. Not just his cock.

He pulled himself out of me and dropped me down. I almost fell, my legs were so wobbly. "This was just the first round," he smirked.

"You're staying?" I asked in surprise. Was it really happening? Was he going to stay the night? I mean… this must have meant something...right?

"If it's okay, honey" he winked at me. "I don't want to wear you out completely."

As much as I wanted to look impartial to the fact, I couldn't hide my excitement. I ran my fingers through his blond hair and grasped its length tightly. "I will be the one to wear you out tonight, James," I said in a seductive voice. He grinned wickedly again and the next thing I knew my head was hanging down as he threw me over his shoulder.

"You're gonna beg me to stop," I heard him say and I laughed out loud. I was so happy. He was staying. And we were going to have a lot of kinky, filthy, dirty sex tonight. He needed me. And I didn't feel confused anymore, because he was here, with me and nothing else mattered.

XOXOXOXOX

I felt extremely sore the following morning. When I woke up, it was only half past six. James wasn't in the bed anymore and for a while I panicked that he had left. I managed to get up and put on a robe, my whole body in a bittersweet pain. I walked into the living room and noticed the panties, dead on the floor. I chuckled at the memory. I looked around and there he was, on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.

He was naked.

James was _naked_ on my balcony.

I was glad it was still dark outside and that the balcony didn't face the main street.

The wave of arousal washed through me again, concentrating between my legs. But my every fucking step hurt, I couldn't even think of another round.

James was right in the end. I had begged him to stop. Several times. It had been a crazy night. We'd drunk and had sex, and then again and again. But it wasn't that much about sex as about him teasing me, blinding me, spanking me and bringing me to orgasm with his fingers, tongue and cock again and again.

I was sure done for at least next two days.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked as I joined him.

"Hey, you," he said, ignoring my question as he sometimes did, as if he didn't hear me. I once again looked at his tattooed chest and my gaze slid to that magical cock of his. He noticed where I was looking and smirked. "Again?"

"As much as I want to, James, believe me, I think I pass on this one," I admitted and smiled sweetly. I felt like a teenage girl or something. He was here, with me. It spoke volumes for me. He definitely _wanted_ to be here, didn't he? He wasn't home with his bitchy wife, but here, with me. This must have meant something.

Good.

I moved closer to him and kissed him very slowly. When I attempted to deepen this sensual kiss, he broke it off and raised his brows, confused. "What was that for?"

I frowned, now suddenly frightened that I did something wrong. "For nothing… Just a morning kiss, I guess," I explained myself and tried to look unaffected by his cold reception. Shouldn't I kiss him in the morning? Maybe he didn't like kissing in the morning. I mean... We had never actually spent the whole night together. I had to remember that for the next time.

No kissing in the morning.

He didn't say anything, looked away and finished his cigarette in silence. I tried to suppress the feeling of sadness and even scolded myself for feeling sad. He was here with me, wasn't he?

I was standing there, feeling a little bit out of place, when he finally looked at me, the mischievous look in his eyes back again. "I was wondering," he started, "we could spend a weekend together sometimes."

And this completely erased the last few minutes of doubt. "What? Do you mean it?"

He chuckled again. "Of course, I do. We could go somewhere nice, rent a room or a cabin or something. I don't know. You can choose," he offered, and I just stood there in shock. He wanted me to spend a weekend with him.

This had to mean something.

"So, you wanna go?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, I do," I replied. But then I remembered his wife. "What about Victoria?"

He squeezed his brows. "What about her?"

"What are you gonna tell her?"

"That's not your concern, Bella. Don't worry about that," he said, rather harshly and I took it as a cue to stop asking and shut up.

We hung out for a little bit more and then he left. He kissed me passionately at the door and that kiss left me very elated and content. I ignored the thought of him earlier in the morning when he had refused my kiss and concluded that he just wasn't a morning person. This must have been it. Not everyone wanted to be kissed in the morning. Morning breath and everything… Though I didn't mind, really.

Oh, god. James just spent a whole night with me. A whole night full of sex. And he wanted me to spend a weekend with him. This must have meant something... right?

This _definitely_ meant something.

Something more.

* * *

A/N Oh, how stupid, isn't she? Wanna kick her ass sometimes... :)

Okay, people. Thank you all very much for the reviews. I spent a ridiculous amount of time these last few days thinking about this story and I can see exactly what is going to happen. What do you think so far?

In the next chapter, we will meet Bella in the past so you'll get a glimpse of what might have happened.

I apologise for any mistakes or if there is something that simply isn't right, I am not from the US and English is not my first language, and even though I spent a lot of time researching and checking grammar, there is always some mistake. Past tenses are a killer for me. Again, sorry about that.

Thank you and love you, guys.

R.


	4. When The Home Is Gone

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, Stephenie Meyer does. Storyline is mine :)**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

4\. CLOVES - Don't Forget About Me

* * *

CHAPTER 3

 **When The Home Is Gone**

 _"Hey, Hey_

 _Without you there's holes in my soul_

 _Hey, Hey_

 _Let the water in."_

 _"Where ever you've gone?_

 _How, how, how?_

 _I just need to know_

 _That you won't forget about me."_

 _Saturday, December 17, 1988_

It was very cold in Phoenix. People were wearing those big and thick jackets and coats and looked very nervous and angry when the cold wind blew in their faces. But I didn't mind. I liked cold weather because it meant that Christmas was coming.

I was sitting in the front seat in my Mommy's car. We were on our way to see Nana. I hadn't seen her for a very long time. Mommy said she was very, very sick and that was why she couldn't visit me anymore. I was very happy because I was going to see her.

"Mommy? Mommy, where are we going?" I asked because I didn't recognize the neighborhood we were in. This wasn't the place where Nana lived. "Nana's house is not here."

"Bella, honey, Nana is not at home right now."

"Why? Did she move into a new house?"

"No. Because Nana is very sick, she had to go to the hospital where doctors can take care of her every day."

"Is she happy there?"

Mommy was silent for a little while. "Well, I am sure she will be when we visit."

Very soon we arrived at - what Mommy called – the hospital. It was a large building and there were a lot of people. It was noisy as well. Some of those people were wearing white coats, but I decided that I wouldn't like them. They looked scary.

"Come, Bella, this way," Mommy pulled my hand when I stopped walking because I noticed a small bald girl, sitting in a big wheelchair. She must have been very sick, like Nana. I could see it. She was holding some man's hand and she was smiling at him. She called him 'daddy'.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Bella?" said Mommy as we rushed down the corridor.

"When is Daddy going to visit?"

Mommy didn't reply.

"Mommy? When is he coming?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Bella."

"I miss him," I said quietly, because Mommy was angry.

Mommy let out a funny noise, as if she was laughing. But it was like… a sad laugh. Could people be laughing and be sad at the same time?

"Mommy, can I call him when we get home?"

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. I hadn't talked to Dad for a very long time now.

We got on the elevator and I held Mommy's hand tightly. There were a lot of white coats. I didn't like white, it was a very empty color. It needed to be… filled, made prettier.

We got off the elevator and I followed Mommy as she led me to the door at the end of the long corridor.

"Is this Nana's new house?"

"No, Bella, this is just her room," Mommy laughed and opened the door. Of course, houses weren't in buildings, silly Bella.

"Nana!" I screamed because there was Nana, lying on the bed. I let go of Mommy's hand and ran to her. Suddenly, I found myself on the floor. I must have tripped.

"Bella!" Mommy raised her voice. "Be careful, sweetie."

I quickly got up, forgetting about the pain in my knees, and came to Nana's bed. "Hello, Nana!"

Granny smiled. I loved her smile. "Oh, hello, my little peanut," said Nana and touched my cheek. She looked different. Thinner. And she had a scarf on her head. Why would she cover her hair?

"Hey, Mom," said Mommy, picked me up and sat on the bed beside Nana. "How have you been?"

"You know," Nana said, "nothing has changed."

"Do you sleep here, Nana?" I asked.

"Why, yes, Bella."

"And do you like it?"

Nana smiled. She was smiling like Mommy. "Well, it is not my own bed, but it is not that bad. I've slept on worse," Nana chuckled.

"And are you happy here?"

Nana wasn't smiling anymore. She looked very sad. Oh no. I upset Mommy and now Nana. They were not going to like me if I upset them.

"Have I upset you, Nana? I am very sorry," I said, my eyes wet. "I am sorry."

Mommy squeezed me, but she didn't say anything. She brushed my long hair with her fingers. I liked it when she did it.

"Oh, of course not, little Bella," she smiled again. It was just a half-smile. "You haven't upset me. It's just… I am very sick, Bella, and sometimes I don't feel very well. But when I see you and your mom, I am very happy."

I smiled. "So, you are happy when you see us?"

"Yes," her smile got bigger.

I thought about it. "Mommy, can I stay here with Nana?"

Mommy squeezed her brows. "And why would you want to stay here, Bella?"

"Because she's not happy when I am not here. And I don't want Nana to be unhappy," I stated. How could she not understand?

"Bella, honey, you cannot stay here, in the hospital."

"And why not?" I asked. If Nana could, I could, too.

"Bella, your grandmother is sick and she needs doctors to look after her. You are perfectly healthy, baby. You don't have to stay here."

Suddenly I felt very sad. "Mommy, but I fall down often. I need to be looked after as well," I said. Mommy knew this to be true.

Mommy and Nana laughed. "That might be true, but you it doesn't mean you have to stay in here," Mommy said, her hands in my hair.

I looked away, because I felt tears in my eyes. Very soon, they started to fall down my cheeks.

"Oh, Bells, honey, don't cry," Nana swiped away my tears. "I will be okay."

"But you are not happy."

"I am now."

"I want you to be happy all the time."

Mommy pulled me closer to her and she kissed me on my forehead. "Don't worry about that now, baby. Nana will be fine," Mommy repeated herself. Well, if Mommy said that, she must have been right.

"How are you, sweetheart?" asked Nana and took my hand to hers.

"I am very happy," I said. "I am very happy, because I came to visit and because Christmas is coming very soon, too."

"And what would you like to get for Christmas?"

I thought about it for a while. "I don't know. I think I would like to call Daddy, but Mommy is very weird when I ask about him. So maybe Santa will make him call me. And I would like Santa to give new slippers for Mommy," I said and then I realized that Nana was not happy when she didn't see me. "And I would like him to make you happy even if we are not here," I said and smiled. I had already written to Santa this year, but maybe he would change his mind. I mean, he knew me, right? So, he would know that my wishes changed, right?

"Your Dad didn't call you, did he?" Nana asked.

I shook my head. "No. I miss him," I repeated. Nana looked at Mommy in that strange way Mommy had looked at me earlier today. Was she now angry with Mommy?

We stayed with Nana for a little while. She was talking to Mommy until a nurse came into the room and said that Nana had to have some tests done. I didn't want to go because she would become unhappy again, but Mommy promised we would visit her on Christmas.

On our way home we stopped at the department store. Mommy said she needed to buy something for Christmas. While Mommy was in this big shop, talking to someone, I decided to look around, because there was one shop, right opposite the one we were in, I wanted to go to. I would return to Mommy in just a moment. I left Mommy and went into the opposite shop. It was very pretty. It was full of pictures and it was very colorful, not like the hospital. There were pictures of places and forest as well as beaches and a lot of pictures of sun. But then there were pictures of people as well. They looked like photographs, but I knew they weren't.

"Oh, hello, young lady," an old man said, rising from behind one of the pictures. I didn't see him before.

"Hello," I said. Was he going to be angry that I was here alone? I went closer to him, noticing the picture he was hiding behind. It was a picture of a face, a person that rested on some wooden thing. It wasn't finished. "What are you doing?"

He smiled. Good, he wasn't angry with me. "I am painting, little lady," he said. I looked at him, at his painting and back at him. He looked very happy. I would be too, surrounded by all those colors.

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"Why, yes, I am," he chuckled. "Painting makes me very happy. Are you happy?"

I shrugged. "I was happy because we went to the hospital, with my Mommy, to see my nana and because Christmas is coming. But Nana is very sick and she must stay in the hospital. So, she said to me that she isn't happy when she doesn't see me and now I am sad. I can't be with her all the time and now she is not happy and I am not happy."

An old man was very tall and very thin. He had grey hair and grey beard, but very nice blue eyes. He was smiling again. "Why don't you draw for her?"

"Draw?" I repeated. "I don't understand."

"Don't you draw pictures in pre-school?" he asked.

"Yes, we do."

"And do you like drawing?"

"I do," I said truthfully. Yes, I liked drawing. I liked all the colors.

"Draw her a picture of yourself and your Mom. She would always see your face and that would make her very happy, I am sure."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He laughed. "Yes, I am very sure. You see, young lady, when you draw or paint, you put yourself onto the canvas, on that blank space. And when other people look at your drawing or painting, they not only see what you painted but who you are. Most of them don't know it, but by that picture, you give them the key to your soul. Everything you are is on that painting… or drawing." I frowned. I didn't understand, but he continued. "Of course, your grandmother would be happy if you draw her a picture of yourself."

I thought about it. Maybe he was right. "Do your pictures make other people happy?"

He smiled. "Yes, most of the time. Do they make you happy? Do you like them?"

I nodded. "Yes, I like your pictures very much. They are very colorful."

"So, then I am sure, your picture will make your grandmother very happy."

I smiled and nodded but then I got sad again. "But I don't have any crayons and I don't know if Mommy would buy me any," I said. "Mommy and I don't have much money." Sometimes she didn't buy me what I wanted.

The old man wanted to say something, but someone entered the shop.

"Bella! Where have you gone?! I got so afraid! You can't do that to me, honey, do you understand?! Someone might have taken you from me! I was so afraid," Mommy said in a very loud voice and hugged me tightly, kissing me on forehead and picking me up to her arms. "I am so sorry, sir, she is just too curious for her age. I didn't want her to bother you."

An old man smiled again. I liked his smile very much. "Oh, no worries, ma'am. She is one lovely little girl. How old is she?"

"I am four!" I said fast and loud before Mommy could say a word.

He laughed. "I see. Well, as I said, no harm done."

"Thank you for keeping an eye on her. We better get going," Mommy said and turned to leave.

"Byeee!" I waved at the old man and he looked at me in a strange way.

"Ma'am, wait for a moment, please," I heard him and Mommy turned to him. He came to us and he was holding something in his hands. It was a little wooden box. He put it in my small hands. "For you, young lady. Make your nana happy," he said, smiled and winked and I smiled back at him.

"What is it?" Mommy asked.

"Oh, just a set of conté crayons I had under the counter. There are the usual black and brown ones, but also some of them are colorful. I'm sure she'll find the use for them."

Mommy frowned. "But, why…?"

The old man stopped her with the wave of his hand. "Little lady here wanted to draw and I had some spare crayons. Really, it's nothing. I believe she'll make a fine artist," he winked at me.

"Thank you very much, sir!" I said, smiling. Now I can make Nana happy!

"Oh, you're welcome, little lady. Just don't forget to show me what you drew, okay?"

"Okay," I said and tried to wink at him but I didn't know if I managed to do it.

Mommy was still frowning. "Sir, you really didn't have to do it, I can pay for it…"

"Nonsense! Don't worry about that. They are not even for sale," he said quickly.

"Well, thank you very much, anyway," Mommy said.

"It's the least I can do."

I smiled at the old man one more time and then we left the store. I really wanted to return after I would draw the picture for Granny. I wanted to draw one for him as well.

The crayons were very nice and very colorful, but they didn't look like the crayons we had at school. Mine were shaped like a square without the pointed tip. When we came home, Mommy had to find me papers to draw on right away because I couldn't wait anymore. I needed to draw Nana a picture, because I was very happy and it would make her happy if she had us with her in the hospital all the time. It took me a lot of time until I was finished. It had to be very good, so I was drawing very slowly and thought about it very much.

"Bella, it's time to go to bed," Mommy came to my room. "It's already past your bedtime."

"Mommy, Mommy! Look at what I drew!" I screamed because I was very very, very happy right now. I loved my picture and I was sure Nana would love it, too. "Do you love it, Mommy?" I held out the picture for her to see. It was just my and Mommy's heads, similar to the pictures of people the old man was painting when I entered the store.

Mommy stepped closer and her eyes widened. "Wow! It's beautiful, Bella. Have you been drawing this all evening?"

"Of course," I said. What else would I do?

"It's wonderful," Mommy said. "Is this me?" she pointed at herself.

"Yes, Mommy, this is you and this is me. I wanted to draw Daddy as well but Nana doesn't like him, so I didn't want her to be unhappy because of that."

Mommy laughed. "Yes, you are right about that. The two of us is just fine. Now, go to bed."

"But when are we going to see her?"

"Next week, on Christmas Day, okay? Can you wait one week?" Mommy asked and put PJs on me.

"Yes, I can wait," I said because it wasn't that bad. "I hope she will get better."

Mommy smiled, but her eyes were sad. Again, I wondered how was it possible? How was it possible to be sad and happy at the same time? "I hope so, too. Now, go and brush your teeth."

A week later, Mommy and I visited Nana and she was so happy when I gave her the picture I draw that she started crying.

"Nana, why are you crying? Did my picture make you unhappy?" I asked. Oh, I messed up again. But I was so sure she would be glad to see my drawing.

"No, of course not, sweetheart. It made me very, very happy."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because, sometimes, my little peanut, happiness makes you cry," she smiled through the tears.

I frowned. Why people laughed when they were sad? Why people smiled when they were sad? And… why people cried when they were happy?

That day, Nana assured me that she was much better. And happy. And that was all I needed to hear to be happy myself.

After we came home and had dinner, the phone rang. Mommy went to answer it.

"Bella?"

"Yes, Mommy?"

"Come here, your father wants to speak to you!"

What? Daddy? Daddy! He called, he finally called!

I jumped out of the chair and went to the hall to take the call.

Mommy gave me the phone. "Hey, Daddy!"

"Hey, Bella. How are you, kiddo?"

"Oh, Daddy, I am so very happy now. I draw picture for Nana and when you come visit I will draw you a picture as well, okay? Because it makes people happy and me too and I want you to be happy as well."

There was silence on the other side. "Yeah, Sue, just leave it there… You were saying, Bella?"

"I was saying, Daddy, that I will draw you a picture when you visit. When will you come?"

"Mhmm, I don't know, yet. I'm very busy at work."

I got a little bit sad. "But you will visit, right? What should I do? Do you want me to come up to Washington? Maybe Mommy can let me go…"

"No, no, Bella, you won't go anywhere."

I tried not to cry. Daddy didn't like when I was crying. "Why not, Daddy?"

There was a silence on the other side again. "Sue, we will talk about it later, Bella's on the phone." Daddy laughed at something. "I know, well, you just wait…"

"Daddy?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Why don't you want me to come to Washington?"

"Because you are too small to travel."

"But you want me to come, right?"

"Sure, I do, but you are too little. When my schedule clears up a little, I will visit, 'kay?"

I was feeling very sad right now. "Can I call you sometimes?"

"Oh, god, that should be illegal," Daddy tried to whisper but I could still hear him.

"Daddy, can I call?" I repeated louder, because Daddy didn't hear me.

"Sure, sure, Bella, anytime you want," his voice changed.

"Happy Christmas, Daddy," I said because I saw Mommy frowning at me. It was time to hung up.

"Happy Christmas, Bella. Be a good girl, okay, baby?" he asked and I smiled.

"Of course, Daddy. I always am."

"Good, good. Bye, honey."

"Bye, Daddy," I said. "I miss you," I wanted to say but he wasn't there anymore.

I missed Daddy. I looked up at Mom and tried to smile, make sure she wasn't sad because of me but I wasn't sure she believed me.

So, maybe that was the reason why people sometimes smiled when they were sad. They didn't want to make other people feel the sadness they felt themselves.

 _Saturday, May 23, 1998_

"Bella, come on, honey, we're late," I heard Mom shout from downstairs.

"I'm coming, I just need to find my new paints," I shouted back.

"Bella, how many times I told you to put your things in one place, so you don't have to look for them again and again?"

 _Look, there you are._ Well, I definitely didn't put them there. "I got them, Mom, I'm coming." I tried not to trip over the stairs as I was hurrying downstairs. Mom was already in the car.

"Mom, do you have my brushes?" I asked her when I joined her in the car.

"Of course, I do. Someone has to think about those things," she said, but not in a scolding way. Good. I knew I was making her annoyed and irritated sometimes because I forgot about things all the time.

"I am sorry, Mom," I said.

"Just listen to me next, time, okay, honey?" she smiled. "Mrs. Cope must be crazy by now, we are always late for your classes."

"I know," I said guiltily. "But she says she doesn't mind that much."

"Well, that doesn't mean we shouldn't try and be on time," Mom said. "How was school yesterday?"

 _No, please_.

I blushed. "Oh. It was okay, I guess."

Mom looked at me. "Okay? What is it, baby?"

"Nothing, Mom."

"Isabella Marie, tell me what's wrong," Mom demanded. "Don't lie to me, you're like an open book," she chuckled softly. "I can see it written all over your face."

"What _it?_ " I snickered.

"It – whatever that happened at school today. C'mon, tell me," she demanded again, but now very sweetly and with a genuine concern in her voice.

I loved her so much.

I swallowed uneasiness and bitter memories. "Just a few kids today made a stupid comments about my painting," I admitted quietly. "It's nothing, Mom, really. I'm used to it."

By the expression on her face I knew Mom got angry. _No, this was not what I wanted_. "Do you want me to talk to your teacher about it?"

"No, no, Mom, please, let it go. I'm sure they'll come around," I said, really hoping I was right. They weren't that bad, just a little mean.

Mom sighed. "But, honey, this is not the first time you mentioned them. Are you sure you don't want me to take care of it?"

"No, Mommy, I am sure. School's finished soon, anyway," I said, really looking forward to summer holiday, to seeing Dad maybe. I couldn't remember the last time we talked.

"Well, okay, but if there is anything that's bothering you, just tell me, Bella. I am a little worried about you. You don't take these things lightly."

I frowned. "No, Mom, please, don't be. I am fine," I smiled again. I had this kind of smile perfected. It was that kind of smile you used when you didn't really have any reason to smile. You just did it because you didn't want people to know how you truly felt – the sad smile. Our English teacher had described that kind of smile the other day.

 _The smile that doesn't reach your eyes._

But even though Mommy knew me through and through, she never picked up on that smile. I was out of suspicion when I smiled like that and it made her happy, content. That was all that mattered.

"Are you going to be at the diner?" I asked Mom, when we arrived at my 10am painting lesson at Mrs Cope's house. She'd been working there as a waitress for as long as I could remember.

"No," Mom said, frowning. She didn't continue.

"Okay, so are you gonna be home?"

"No."

"Mom?" Mom was nervous, I could tell.

"I have an appointment at the hospital."

"On Saturday?"

"Yes," Mom replied. "You know I work from dawn to dusk every day and Phil didn't want to give me a day off during a weekday. Doctor wanted to talk to me as soon as possible, so he suggested today's morning and Phil said I can take today off," Mom explained quickly and smiled. And I recognized that smile immediately. It was the one that didn't reach her eyes. _The sad smile._

"Mommy, are you okay?"

"Yes, why?"

I saw that she didn't want to talk about it. And I was already late. "Okay, I'll wait for you in the afternoon, 'kay?"

"Sure, honey. We can watch _Sissi_ when you come home," she smiled again, more genuinely this time.

"Yeah, no problem. I don't think I remember the third movie as well as the previous ones," I joked. We watched a lot of historical movies and documentaries about Europe, but _Sissi_ trilogy was number one on Mommy's list.

"Okay, honey, just go, because Mrs. Cope will stop giving you any lessons," Mom ushered me out of the car. I took my bag with brushes and paints from the back seat, kissed her on the cheek and hurried into the house.

I apologized to Mrs. Cope, but as I said earlier, she didn't really mind. I didn't think I needed lessons in painting, mostly because all the things Mrs. Cope showed me I already knew. Besides, she kind of forced me to paint in a classical way, using techniques that bored me. I liked to paint in my own way, the one that made me feel fulfilled. But I knew it made Mom feel good when I had something to do on Saturdays when she was often at work. She was a big fan of mine and I know she worked really hard, so she could afford it. And I just wanted to make her happy. So, I didn't say a word about Mrs. Cope and her disapproval of my… _free-thinking spirit_ as she had put it one day. I knew a few of my paintings were unusual, surreal even. But Mrs. Cope said I couldn't possibly understand surrealism at my age, that my technique and point of view were not believable.

Like a bad joke, Mrs. Cope said about one of them.

 _Like a dream_ , I countered in my thoughts. _Like everything is possible. Like I can fight what I feel._

She liked my portraits the most anyway. As most of the people. But the truth was that since she started to reject my more prominent surrealistic tendencies in my paintings, I painted less in that way. I tried to suppress the need to paint like that. And when I did I just didn't show her those kinds of paintings, I kept them at home. Mom loved them. She said they looked like me, but at the same time as the person she had yet to meet… whatever she meant by that.

Mrs. Cope wasn't that bad, she was just a little… old-school? Well, she was in her sixties. She was teaching Art at my school and because Mrs. Cope had talked to my Mom about my talent when I was around ten, Mom asked her to teach me.

So, here I was. Sometimes terribly bored, but I never let it show. She was a very passionate woman, but very content in her comfortable zone of classical approach to painting.

It was already 2:30 in the afternoon. My lessons took usually from four to five hours. I had my own paints, brushes and canvases that I kept at Mrs. Cope's. Expensive things for us, but again, it was all for Mom. I knew how happy it made her when I painted. And it made me happy, too.

"Very good, Bella, I am very proud of you," said Mrs. Cope at the end of my lesson, patting me on my shoulder. "Just keep your focus on portraits, forget those weak attempts at being different, and one day - who knows? - maybe you'll have your own exhibition," she winked at me. I knew she was joking, but recently I started to think about that more seriously. I really wanted that. To be a professional painter. I mean… Every time I imagined my paintings at the David Zwirner Gallery in New York or any other gallery in Chelsea or at Manattan for that matter, my body shivered in excitement. I really wanted that.

But what if Mrs. Cope was right? What if I couldn't pull it off? My portraits on their own were not interesting enough and my other paintings… well, they were my own personal expression. People didn't understand me, so how could they understand my paintings? My Mom liked everything I painted, even a single black line I would draw on the back of the magazine. She was biologically predisposed to like everything I did.

Very slowly, the thought of leading an ordinary life started to be daunting. I wanted to reach my heights, my fullest potential. How would I do that if I became… a teacher, for example?

No, never a teacher. Mrs. Cope was an example frightening enough.

Of course, it hurt when I was rejected, when my paintings were rejected, but I painted and I forgot. I painted and it wasn't there anymore. I was sure again. I was with myself once again and it never felt better. And there was Mom. As long as she was with me, everything was okay.

At 3:25 pm, 25 minutes after my lesson finished and my Mom still hadn't arrived.

"Are you sure your Mom's supposed to pick you up?" asked Mrs. Cope.

"Yeah, she said, she would. May I use your phone, Mrs. Cope?"

She smiled. "Sure, Bella, help yourself."

I dialed our phone number. The phone rang but nobody answered. Was Mom still at the hospital? Suddenly, I had a lump in my throat.

"Nobody's answering. Mom was supposed to go to the hospital today, maybe she hasn't returned, yet," I said when Mrs. Cope asked if Mom had answered the phone.

"Well, let me drive you home, then. I am sure, Mom will be back in a few," Mrs. Cope offered, and I smiled gratefully. I started to feel uneasy and worried. I tried to calm myself down but the lump in my throat wasn't subsiding. _I_ ' _m sure she is fine. It is not going to happen again. It happened just twice. She said she wouldn't. She said so and I had to trust her._

Mrs. Cope drove me home and asked if I wanted her to come inside with me.

"No, I'll be okay. I am used to being alone, when Mom's in work," I smiled my fake smile. "Thank you for the lesson and ride home, Mrs. Cope."

"Anytime, Bella, anytime," she smiled. We said our goodbyes, I took my bag with the paints and brushes and started towards our poor little house.

"Mom?" I called when I entered, my voice shaky. "Mommy? Mom, are you home?" I really hoped she wasn't at home. I really hoped she was buying groceries or that she got stuck at the hospital or something. I hoped she'd forgot about me. I hoped that my suspicion wouldn't be confirmed.

The door to the kitchen was closed, but I knew Mom was in. I heard noises, bottles clinking.

 _No, no, no, no, no… please, no._

The lump in my throat thickened even more and I felt like I couldn't breathe properly. "Mommy?" I called, knocking on the door. When the noises stopped, I warily entered the kitchen. It was one big mess, Mom sitting on the floor, her back supported by the kitchen counter, crying, glass of wine in her hand. "Mommy, are you okay?"

She looked at me, her red eyes glazed with the varnish of alcohol. She started sobbing heavily and motioned with her hand toward me. "C'mere, a minute, my love. C'mere," she requested.

I battled sadness, anger and disappointment altogether with tears now forming in the corners of my eyes. It was so difficult to breathe. I panted and touched my throat in an attempt to ease my pain.

"Mommy?" My voice was so shaky.

"Just, c'mere, honey, sit down," she sobbed again and despite the fear I felt I obeyed. She was everything to me.

I sat down, and she put her hand around my shoulders. Strong odor of alcohol bumped into my nose.

"You know, how much I love you, right, my Bella?" she asked, or more accurately, slurred.

"Of course, I do, Mommy," I responded. "I love you very much."

She smiled sadly. "I know, you do, baby. But things are about to change right now," she said.

"Change? Mom, what do you mean?" I asked, frightened.

She started to sob again, the new wave of tears flowing down her face. It was more and more difficult to keep my own tears at bay.

It took good five minutes until she calmed down again. "Would you, please, call your father and ask him to fly down here tomorrow?"

I opened my eyes in shock. "What? Mom, what are you saying?"

"Just call him and tell him that the results have come. He'll know," Mom managed to say before starting to sob again.

My whole body felt wobbly and uncoordinated even more than usual. I walked to the phone in a daze processing her words.

 _The results._

 _The hospital._

 _The nervousness._

 _The drinking. Those last two times I caught her being drunk._

 _Please, someone, tell me that this is not happening._

With shaky fingers I dialed Dad's number. It rang a few times before a woman answered.

Sue. "Hello?"

"Hey," I said quietly to the phone. "This is Bella."

She was quiet for a moment. "Oh, yes! Bella. Hi."

"Can I talk to my Dad, please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sugar pie, he's not here."

No… "And where is he?" I asked, the uneasiness in my voice more evident now.

"He's fishing. I'll tell him you called, 'kay?"

I nodded.

"'kay?" she repeated a little bit impatiently and only then I realized she couldn't see me.

"Yeah, sure, okay," I said, the tears I had battled so bravely were now finding their way down my cheeks. Before I managed to say 'bye', she had already hung up. I returned to the kitchen, only to find Mom passed out on the floor, her back against the kitchen counter with her head resting on her shoulder.

I started sobbing at the sight. My Mommy, my brave Mom so defeated and beaten up. I felt helpless, afraid, angry and very, very sad. What had happened? Wasn't I making her happy? Why was she turning to alcohol for consolation? If she had bad news – and I knew she had – why she hadn't confided in me? I was not stupid, I was her Bella, I would have handled it.

I knew I wouldn't be able to move her to the couch or bed myself, so I shook her shoulder. "Mom, Mommy, wake up. Please, just go sleep to your bed, okay? If not, then just lie down on the couch, okay? Don't worry about the mess, I'll clean it up. Just lie down, Mommy, will you?" I begged her. She nodded, completely unfocused. I helped her stand up and led her to the couch. We wouldn't manage the stairs. The moment she lay down, she was out again. I sighed. It was good. She was sleeping and that was good. It meant she wouldn't drink more tonight. It meant I was safe now. I could do it alone, I could take care of her if she was asleep. She would wake up in the morning and things would be the same again. She would be back.

My Mommy. My brave Mom.

I took her shoes off. Her cheeks were rosy and irritated by the streams of salty tears, her eyes were puffy and red as well, but the rest of her body was so cold… I covered it with a blanket. I let my own tears fall, trying not to think about those bad news, _the results,_ too much.

Before I called my Dad again, I had cleaned up the kitchen and tried to distract myself with a little bit of sketching, sitting on the armchair by the couch, not willing to leave Mom alone. But my hands were too shaky and my mind too side-tracked. I didn't know what was happening to me. The lump in my throat was still present, but wasn't as prominent as before.

What was happening? What was happening to our little piece of heaven?

When I dialed Dad's number again, I prayed it would be him who would answer the phone.

"Charlie Swan speaking," I heard him say.

"Dad?" I asked, starting to pant heavily.

He was quiet for a second. "Bella?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Bella, are you okay?"

I wanted to say 'yes', because I didn't want to worry him, but my sobs were the evidence of the exact opposite. "I'm fine. But Mom's not."

"Bella, what the hell is happening?" he asked angrily. I didn't like him that way, but I knew crying was making him upset.

"I am sorry, Dad, really sorry to disturb you and Sue, but Mom told me to call you and tell you to fly down here, because she got the results," I blurted out quickly, sobbing loudly.

 _I want this day to end already._

Dad was quiet again. "You sure she said that?"

"Of course, Daddy."

"Why didn't she call?"

I didn't want to tell him about her drinking. "She was tired, she fell asleep."

There was silence on the other side and I couldn't stop crying. "Daddy? Will you come?"

"Well… if I won't be able to come tomorrow, I'll definitely show up on Monday, okay, Bella? Just calm down."

I nodded, but again, he couldn't see me.

"Bella, are you gonna be okay?"

"Yes, I will."

"Has your mother told you anything?"

"No."

He was silent. "Just don't worry, honey. I'll come as soon as I can."

"Okay, Dad. I love you," I said, more calmly.

"Yeah, sure. Bye."

"Bye," I said.

I returned to the living room, Mom still asleep. I switched the TV on, trying to focus on something completely different than what was going on in my mind. I knew I couldn't go to bed, not with Mom here, on the couch. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't. Not only the armchair was terribly uncomfortable, but my mind was too busy, I was too awake.

 _I felt too much alive._

Wasn't there anything that would make me oblivious to everything? Just for a while? Everything was to intense, too strong.

 _I felt too much._

My eyes darted to my sketchbook. I grabbed it again and strangely enough I managed to focus on sketching. I didn't know what was it that I was drawing, but whatever it was, it carried me through the night, until I fell into dark unconsciousness.

I woke up to the sounds of conversation. Before I allowed my eyes to open, I focused on the voices. One definitely belonged to Mom and I felt my body instantly relax. She was okay. She was okay. I didn't even realize how tense I must have been.

The second voice was not unfamiliar, but it took me only a second or two more to recognize Dad's voice.

Dad was here? So soon?

Suddenly I felt very safe. I didn't have to worry anymore. _I am not alone anymore._

As much as I wanted to drift off to sleep again, the voices were too loud now. Getting louder, actually. I lazily opened my eyes and found myself on the couch, in the living room. Someone must have moved me from the armchair. The moment my senses were more aware I realized the voices were coming from the kitchen. I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. I slowly got up and moved towards the kitchen.

"…why didn't you tell her then?" Dad.

Silence.

"I didn't take it very well." Mom.

Silence again.

"What's the prognosis?"

"Well, they have to do some tests, but… It doesn't look good, Charlie," I heard Mom's voice break.

"And what the hell does that mean?"

Mom started sobbing. "I'm going to die, Charlie. Soon."

The lump was back in my throat and now I didn't even fight tears. I thought it was bad, but not _that_ bad.

 _No, Mommy, no. You can_ ' _t leave me._

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know," Mom tried to laugh. It was a very poor attempt. "But, Charlie, will you take care of her, right?"

"What?" Charlie asked, distracted.

"Bella. Will you take care of her, right?"

"Oh, god, Renee, what is that supposed to mean?" Dad whined.

Mom was silent. "You are her father."

"And? Isn't there anyone in your family who can take her? You know I didn't sign up for this."

"But… what am I supposed to do about her, Charlie? She can't possibly be put in the foster care after I die," Mom said, getting angry.

I was silently crying, I couldn't breathe. What was happening?

 _No, no, no._

"Renee," started Charlie, "I told you the moment you got pregnant... I will give you money every fucking month, I will take her to Forks on holidays even, but nothing more. I can't take care of a child, Renee!"

"She is not a child anymore, Charlie! She is going to be fourteen. Give her four years, save some money for her and then let her go, just don´t rob her of the last possibility to have a home, please," Mom cried. "Charlie, Bella's your daughter."

"This is crazy," Dad muttered.

"And she loves you," Mom continued. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Why the hell didn't you just get rid of her when you had a chance fourteen years ago? I told you so many times that we are not ready for a kid! And look, Renee! Now you decide you're sick and leave her to me! Abortion was our decision, but no! You changed your fucking mind!" Dad was furious. His voice was extremely hurt. I heard Mom sobbing loudly.

"You can't be serious, Charlie."

"I am sorry, but… This is just too much, Renee. Too much," I heard Dad's voice shaking.

"I know," Mom said. "But she needs you."

"I need time to decide."

They were silent and my mind froze. I was trying to process the words I heard, process them and put them in their respective folders in my head. Dad must have been hurting so much, I knew he didn't mean it. My parents never really got along with each other. I didn't blame Dad for his outburst.

But the short feeling of safety was long forgotten.

 _So, I am still alone, after all._

It was time to get used to it.

I decided to enter the kitchen. But before I did, I'd swiped my tears away and made a loud sound of closing the door to the living room, so they would know I didn't hear them.

When I entered the kitchen, they looked startled and probably wondered if I heard them.

I smiled, pretending I was okay. The fake smile in full force. I wasn't sure if it worked on Mom, but she seemed too distracted to notice anything. And Dad didn't really know me.

"Hey, Bella," Mom said, her eyes red from crying. I tried to recall her yesterday's smile.

"Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad," I said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hi, Bella," he tried to smile. "You grew up since the last time I saw you."

"Well, yes. My hair is a lot longer," I uttered. I was so confused. I turned to Mom. "Mom? Will you tell me what is happening?"

Mom looked at Dad and he nodded. It was strange seeing them interacting in such a team-like way. Especially after I heard them fight so bad.

Mom started to sob again, but she managed to tell me about her illness. She was diagnosed with mesothelioma. A type of lung cancer which affected the tissue that surrounded the lungs. Yes, I'd noticed she complained about chest pain and she coughed more than usual. But most of the time she was at work and said it was nothing to worry about. So, I didn't. She was my Mommy. I trusted her.

Mom said that her cancer was in the fourth and last stage and that it had spread into her lymph nods and liver. At that point I started to cry with her. Dad put his hand around my shoulder, but it didn't make me feel better. Nothing would ever make me feel better.

My Mommy was dying. She wasn't going to be here anymore.

She was going to leave me.

 _I am alone._

I hugged her tightly when she stopped talking and cried silently with her. "I am so sorry, Mommy. So sorry," I sobbed. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Don't worry, we'll enjoy our last moments, okay?" she looked at me and smiled. Sadly.

I nodded vigorously. "You won't drink again, will you?" I asked in a terrified whisper, so Dad wouldn't hear me.

Mom shook her head. "No, I won't. I am very sorry, honey, I just… I couldn't handle it."

"I am here for you, Mommy. I won't leave you," I promised. "You can tell me anything."

"Okay, baby, I will," she promised as well. I hugged her again and made another promise, but to myself.

I promised myself to make my Mommy smile and laugh as much as I would be able to in the time we had left together. To make her smile in that genuine and loving way. To make that smile reach her eyes.

Mommy passed away on the 19th of December that same year, of the same condition my grandmother had died ten years ago. She died peacefully, in her sleep, at home. Just as she'd wished. It wasn't me who found her, fortunately, but Dad. He'd moved to Phoenix temporarily in the middle of October when Mom's condition considerably worsened. She was grateful for him being here with us. With me. We'd enjoyed beautiful and warm summer, spending every moment together. Mom stopped working in the middle of July. After that we managed to live with the little amount of money Dad was sending us. I had to stop attending my painting lessons, of course, but I didn't mind. I was trying not to paint as much as I wanted to, saving paint and canvases. Instead I worked on my sketching and drawing. I drew probably dozens of Mom's portraits and drawings.

 _Mommy In the Garden._

 _Mommy Reading a Book._

 _Mommy Smiling a Smile That Reached Her Eyes._

I never told her about that title, but she loved that portrait of herself the most. And I did, too. Even Dad, who never was a big fan of my artistic aspirations, said it was _very precise_.

It meant the world to me.

Mom had refused chemotherapy. She knew that the span of her life would prolong only minimally and she didn't want to spend her last months battling not only cancer but also the side effects of ineffective medication.

One day, in late November, Mom hadn't been feeling very well. She was lying in her bed and I was lying next to her, reading to her from the book about English king Henry VIII and his six wives.

"Bella?"

I stopped reading. "Yes, Mom?"

She took my hand in hers. "I know we were never really on good terms with your father, but… he helped us a lot these last few weeks. When the time comes… Just be a good girl, okay?"

I smirked. "Oh, Mom. I always am."

Mom laughed. "I miss your sassy side."

I shrugged. I knew I wasn't feeling myself. "It's just a lot to process, Mom."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. And you are so sensitive. I wish I could take away your pain," Mom sobbed slightly.

"Don't cry, Mommy," I smiled my fake smile. "You know I'll be alright," I lied.

"Don't you smile that way, Bella."

"What?"

Mom chuckled. "You think I haven't noticed? You smile like that because you don't want me to hurt. But I know, baby, how it hurts _you_ when you don't express what you feel. I know how uncomfortable that is. Don't do that anymore. There's no shame in what you feel."

I was looking at her in awe. "But… Mom, no… I am not doing anything like that."

"No need to hide, sweetie. There is no need to hide."

I had a feeling there was more behind those words.

We hadn't cried a lot. I mean, yes, we had. But not often. We tried to enjoy the most of what we were given, even if it was only watching documentaries about Napoleon or last Russian Tsar. It was probably strange of me to say, but… sometimes I felt like I had never seen Mommy as happy as those last few months.

After Dad had found her breathless in her bed that cold morning, he said he was sorry for me not saying my goodbye. But… I never really wanted to say goodbye. Somehow - and I felt ridiculous about it - I felt we were going to see each other again.

In another lifetime or so.

But even though I felt peaceful at the end of her life, the fact that she wasn't here with me anymore impacted me terribly. I cried and cried and cried for days. Until I stopped. Because I had to.

We were ready to leave Phoenix. For a while, I was really afraid Dad wouldn't take care of me after Mom's death. But he or Mom had never said anything about that possibility. And I had never told them that I knew about it. But after spending my last Christmas in Phoenix, we left almost immediately.

Firstly, I'd thought it would be difficult for me to leave, but it wasn't. Phoenix was my home for last fourteen years but there was nothing even remotely reminiscent of home anymore. Had it ever been a home for me?

Now, I found myself in Forks, Washington. I loved my Dad and I knew he didn't have to take any responsibility for me. He could've left me and put me in the foster care, as Mom had said. But he didn't do it.

I had to make him happy about his decision. I was eternally grateful for it and forever in his debt. But despite everything he did for me, even though I had a roof over my head, I never felt more out of place.

Never felt more alone.

Never more afraid.

I was standing in front of my new house now, surrounded by freezing January cold, and holding tightly onto the only familiarity I recognized - the bag full of paints, brushes, pencils, crayons and the sketchbook full of incomplete drawings. Those were the only things that felt safe.

Those were my only true home.

* * *

A/N **It was long, I know. But I needed to say all those things. Next time, we'll be back in the present.**

 **Again, I apologize for any mistakes.**

 **So, what do you think? I mean, we have a long way to go, I plan at least two more past chapters, but not too many as they are really slowing down the whole story... And I kind of can't wait to meet Edward, muhaha :)**

 **Thank you all for the reviews.**

 **R.**


	5. This Was My Piece Of Heaven

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Stephenie Meyer does. The storyline's mine :)**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

5\. Stevie Wonder – For Once In My Life

* * *

CHAPTER 4

 **This Was My Piece Of Heaven**

" _For once in my life I have someone who needs me  
Someone I've needed so long  
For once unafraid I can go where life leads me  
Somehow I know I'll be strong."_

" _For once I can touch, what my heart used to dream of  
Long before I knew  
Oh someone warm like you  
Would make my dream come true, yeah, yeah."_

 _Thursday, October 25th, 2012_

 _Blog n.69_

 _25th October, 2012_

 _69\. What a lovely number, my beloved readers. Feel free to enjoy it as much as I did last night._

 _Muhahaha. Hate me as much as you want._

 _Yes, I am in a good mood and yes it partly has to do something with number 69, thank you very much._

 _Before I disclose the reason responsible for me feeling like I am on the top of the world and sharing some juicy details I know you love so much, let me apologize, please._

 _For what, you ask._

 _Well, for the last blog post. For its lack of structure, facts and patheticalness. (Yes, this word exists. I just looked it up. Strange, isn't it? You don't really use a noun of the word "pathetic". Okay, sorry, back to the point…)_

 _Yeah, I know. I didn't even read the comments._

 _I was excessively drunk._

 _And confused._

 _And drunk._

 _And I admitted to you that I am someone's lover and I am in love with that someone. Well, for the sake of not calling him_ someone, _let's give him a name… Hm, what about Karl?_

 _So… yeah. Sorry for that._

 _Not gonna happen again._

… _I hope :) You can never say with me. I forget all the time._

 _So, you ready?_

 _Remember how I wrote in that horrible blog post about him feeling the same way about me?_

 _Well, I never told him I love him. So, how could he say it back?_

 _I know, I know, I broke my own rule of truthfulness but, hey, listen. I apologized. And I was drunk. Very drunk. I guess I wanted him so much to feel something back that my subconsciousness just typed those words for me, so that in some world, even in the Internet world, it would be true._

 _But… Before you think that yes he finally said it and I am happy because of that, I have to cut you off. No, he didn't. He didn't say it, neither did I, but I have now every reason to believe our feelings are mutual._

 _And why, you ask._

 _Yesterday I had my usual Wednesday dinner with my bitches, as you already know about this habit of ours, and after that I was getting ready to bed. But then my Karl showed up._

 _On a weekday. He's never done that before._

 _And he stayed the night. He's never done that before either._

 _And then… guess what? After fucking me all night (we'll get to that, don't worry), he's asked me to spend whole weekend with him somewhere! It could easily become a regular thing, don't you think?_

 _When I asked him about his wife, that terrifyingly beautiful woman, he said I shouldn't worry about that._

 _Have I told you she's a redhead?_

 _Aren_ ' _t you even more terrified now?_

 _Anyway, I am floating. And the way he kissed me in the morning when he was leaving… Mhmm. Orgasmic. There was_ definitely _something more between us._

 _So, what did we do last night?_

 _In his glorious way he showed up at my doorstep. And for a good minute I was just staring at him, because, obviously, he's never done it before. And then he just kissed me and fucked me in the living room…_

As I was writing, I couldn't stop smiling. The weekend. We're gonna spend the weekend together. I doubt it'll be the upcoming weekend, we are both busy, but it was all up to me, anyway. I had to choose a place to stay at, where to go.

Oh, good lord. Fuck. This was really happening.

Alice and Rose were already aware of the situation as I'd shared everything important with them today at work. We couldn't really talk about any details, mind you, but we had a secret language at school when we wanted to say something… hm… delicate.

"Oh, hi! Had a good sleep, Bella?" Alice asked when I'd joined her in the teacher's canteen today, grinning like Jim Carrey in that horrible movie _The Mask._

I snickered. "As a matter of fact, no. I slept only an hour or two. But I wouldn't mind staying up all night if I got to play Monopoly even longer."

Alice's eyes widened, and she leaned closer to me. "You played Monopoly last night?"

I nodded, smiling smugly. Monopoly was a cypher for sex.

Alice got skeptical. "Yeah, sure, you played it by yourself, didn't you?"

"Nope." I puckered my lips at 'p', making a pop sound, still grinning. "That would get rather boring, don't you think?"

Alice frowned. "Were you using one of your favorite toys to play with you?" In other words, was I using a vibrator?

"You know I don't like those things."

Alice got frustrated. "Bella, spill it. Who did you play Monopoly with?!"

I laughed. If I didn't know better, I would think she was crazy, getting so angry over a board game.

"Who do you think?"

Alice was thinking only for a split second. Her eyes got even bigger. "No way!"

I nodded.

"But, we left quite late!"

"I know, he arrived just twenty minutes after you'd left the apartment," I said calmly, enjoying her shocked expression.

Alice squeezed her brows. She was thinking. "He stayed the night, didn't he?"

Again, I nodded.

"And you played Monopoly and I bet you cheated like there was no tomorrow," she continued. Cheating meant being very dirty and kinky.

I shrugged playfully. "Kind of."

"How many times did you win?"

"I don't know. Many times, it was crazy. I was on a winning streak," I winked at her, referring to the number of orgasms I had last night.

Before Alice could fire another question related to my Monopoly game last night, Rosalie interrupted her with her arrival.

"Hey, girls," she greeted. "How are you doin'?"

Alice smirked. "Bella played Monopoly last night."

I rolled my eyes.

Rose raised her brows. "What? When? With who?"

"James," Alice said his name like a curse word. I gave her a scolding look.

"But we left so late!"

"Well, apparently we missed him. He arrived only twenty minutes after we'd left."

"No way!" repeated Rose and smiled. "Did he spend the night with you?"

"Yep." Again, I puckered my lips. Oh, how much I enjoyed their faces.

"And before you ask, Rose, yes, she won, several times, she doesn't remember the number. But obviously, they cheated. Naughty, naughty, Bella," Alice revealed and I could see the battle in her face. She hated James so much, yet she wanted to hear every detail of last night.

Rose nodded approvingly. "Well, you look like a completely different person."

"Do I?" I smirked.

Alice and Rosalie just looked at each other and chuckled. "Yes, you do," said Rose.

"And do you know why?" I asked and couldn't get rid of the smugness so clear on my face.

"Spit it out," Alice demanded.

"Well, except him spending the night – and let me remind you that he has never done it before – he asked me to spend a weekend with him. He wants me to find the right place," I announced proudly because now they couldn't bitch about him not loving me or about him just playing games with me. Not that I minded Monopoly…

"It doesn't mean anything," said Alice coldly, shrugging her shoulder.

"I am in a complete ignorance of your person, Mary Alice Brandon," I said, but I didn't manage to hide playfulness in my tone. I just couldn't be mad at her, I felt _so_ good.

"Whatever, just don't you dare cry on my shoulder once he kicks you in the… you know what."

"Oh, Alice, please…" I laughed. "I know you're dying to hear about all the details of our Monopoly game. About all the moves…"

The corners of her mouth started twitching. "I am interested just in the game. Not your… sweet and sticky non-existent cotton candy."

"Cotton candy?" asked Rosalie.

"New code for being in love," explained Alice.

"We don't need a code for being in love," I said.

"Yes, we do."

"And why's that?" I asked.

"Because I said so," Alice retorted and I and Rose laughed. "But don't you think you'll keep the details for yourself," she pointed her finger on me.

I smiled. "Don't worry. I'm writing new blog post this evening."

"I'm not gonna read it if you keep writing like a Harlequin novelist."

Rose laughed. I just rolled my eyes. "Don't worry, I feel quite myself again."

"I'm glad to hear it," Rose said and smiled genuinely, patting my knee. I smiled at her as well. She'd been really worried about me, though I couldn't really understand why. An episode here and there. I mean… we all felt down sometimes, did we not?

"Bella, but you're not going away this weekend, are you?" Rosalie asked.

"No, we're going out with Emmett this Friday, anyway," I said, smiling. "Don't worry, Rose, I didn't forget."

"Yeah, well he wanted to see you, girls. He said he's gonna bring some friends from hospital if they don't have to work," she smiled.

Alice lighted up. "Really? Young doctors? Oh, I can't even remember the number of fantasies I had starring some young and competent doctor who would share a tip or two about how to play Monopoly," she wiggled her brows.

We burst into loud laugh and other teachers, including that bitch of all bitches, Jessica Stanley, turned their heads in our direction. We usually didn't discuss Monopoly or toys at work. Or, at least, we tried not to.

"Alice, honestly? I don't think there is a man who would satisfy your needs," I said.

"What do you mean? I am not _that_ demanding in... well, when playing Monopoly," she defended herself.

"I mean, _all_ your needs," I added.

"Yeah," Rose agreed. "If he's good at playing the game, he's bad at eating the cotton candy. If he's good at eating the cotton candy, he's bad at playing the game. Make up your mind. You can't have everything."

Alice scowled at Rose. "You have everything! Or are you telling me that there is an area where your amazing Emmett is lacking some knowledge?"

I expected Rose to heartily defend her perfect Emmett, but she only laughed. "No, he has everything. He's fuc- Oh, sorry. He _is_ amazing. One of a kind," she smirked smugly.

"Then let me find someone who is one of a kind as well," said Alice.

"Just remember that your clock is ticking," said Rose. "Tick-tock," she laughed.

Alice smiled. She knew Rose was teasing her, but I knew that, in a way, it bothered her that there was no one to her liking. Alice was one crazy dating machine. If the date was unsuccessful, she at least slept with a guy if he was attractive.

I didn't bother with dating.

I just slept with them.

Or better said, I _had slept_ with the guys.

Now I slept with one and only.

As I was writing about every little detail I remembered from last night, thinking of Alice and Rose, I tried to shake off that bugging feeling in the back of my head. Yeah, yeah, I knew there was no real promise of his love, that it was all just me, but… I felt so happy. So… complete or something. Finally.

I couldn't remember the last time I felt so good. I didn't want to lose it just because of some unspoken three words. He wanted to be with me, I knew it. It was almost official.

 _Are you wet? Are you hard?_

 _Good._

 _I love making you all horny and insatiable. Go and have sex with someone you love. Or with someone you don't love. Or better, with someone you barely know. You know I don't really subscribe to this whole "making love" kind of thing. Ew. Even though I love Karl, we don't make love._

 _We fuck. Hard._

 _Can't wait to be handcuffed for... all weekend. Don't worry, I'll share all juicy details. Yummy._

 _Your already aroused,_

 _Romy._

 _P.S Remember, people, have_ _ **protected**_ _sex. Okay? Condoms and stuff. Spread love, orgasms… not STDs._

Oh, yeaahh.

Life was good.

XOXOXOXOXO

I woke up the following morning in even better mood than the one I was in yesterday. We'd exchanged a couple of spicy texts with James yesterday evening and then I sent him a very naughty picture of my… lady parts?

Oh, life, indeed, was wonderful.

I walked all day on a cloud. Nothing could bring me down. Not Jessica and her bitchy ass, not my student Marcus and his asshole of a father or the fact that I'd forgot an umbrella and got all wet on my way home from school.

Nope. Nothing could touch my piece of heaven.

And the fact that I was going out tonight with my bitches… Had I said how wonderful life was?

I had an hour and a half to get ready. I took a long and warm shower and even though I wasn't really into this dressing up kind of thing - especially now that I wasn't going out in order to sleep with someone – I put on my best outfit. Tight black leather jeggings, loose beige blouse and casual black jacket. I wore high heels with it, simply because it looked sexier that way, and I prayed – as so many times before – not to fall on my nose in the course of the night. I was pretty used to wearing heels, even dancing in heels, but you never knew. Not with me. I put on some make-up as well, not too much, blew-dry my thick long hair and let it fall in irregular waves.

 _Doesn't look bad._

Satisfied with the final look I took a picture and sent it to James. He was gonna love it.

I was ready to leave the apartment when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID.

"Yes, Alice?" I answered.

"Where the hell are you, Bella?" she screamed. I heard music and people talking in the background.

"What do you mean, where I am? I'm just leaving the apartment," I responded, harsher than I originally intended to.

"We're already here, you're late," she screamed again.

I looked at the digital clock in the kitchen. 10:17. "Oh, god, sorry, Alice. I must have lost the track of time."

"For an hour and a half? Christ, that's typical," I thought she said. The other option I considered was _Christ, that's cryptical_ , but that didn't fit the context, really.

"Alice, I can't hear you properly, I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay? I'm sorry, don't go anywhere without me," I begged. We usually changed clubs when we felt like it.

"Just get your ass here." And she hung up.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't usually _that_ late.

It wasn't raining anymore, for which I was grateful, but the night was cold and streets were covered in a thick fog. Luckily, I caught a cab unusually fast, given the fact it was a Friday night, and arrived at our usual place in just ten minutes.

You see? I could be efficient.

I threw a note in a general direction of driver, but the moment I get off the cab, I wanted to get back.

"Shit!" It was starting to rain. Heavily.

I covered my head with my purse, but it was a vain attempt. I had to walk towards our club for a few more minutes. I walked as fast as I could, choosing not to run, however I still carefully watched my steps, not even trying to look up. I knew I was close to the entrance and when I reached for the door, it wasn't there. Instead I bumped into something hard, or rather someone tall and solid.

 _Oh, the smell. Smells good._

 _Really good._

"Fuck! Watch your steps, asshole," I uttered, pretty fed up with the rain and now him. I didn't even care to look at the man's face.

"Sorry, your ladyship," he responded sarcastically.

Like I said, _asshole._

When I was finally inside, I winked at Garett, club's bodyguard. Oh, he knew the three of us too well.

Had I slept with him?

Maybe…

I entered the heart of the club and it was bouncing with energy. Music was loud and people were dancing in its rhythm, colorful lights were lightning the whole space and there was a promise of a good party in the air.

Oh, yeah.

I was, once again, on my little happy cloud.

I approached our usual box. I saw Alice first, talking to some guys I didn't recognize. There was no Rose or Emmett. I bet they were fucking somewhere in the back of the club. Last time we were out, they'd disappeared for two fucking hours.

I never fucked in clubs.

I mean, I _no more_ fucked in clubs.

"Oh, hey, Bella!" she smiled when she saw me. "It's nice you finally got your precious ass down here. You just missed Emmett's friend from medical school. God knows what his name was," she giggled drunkenly.

"Like I care," I sighed, but otherwise ignored her and instead smiled at two sweet faces sitting by both her sides. Dark, but not too dark. Not my type exactly, but it could do. "Care to introduce me?"

There she was. Flirty Bella was back.

Alice rolled her eyes, but obliged. "Bella, this is Paul," she pointed to the guy on the left, "and this is Jared. They're brothers."

Jared and Paul both laughed at Alice's introduction. "No, I am Jared, this is Paul," said Jared, the guy on the left.

I laughed and Alice joined me. "Sorry, guys. Too many tequilas."

"I don't mind," Jared smirked and winked at Alice. She giggled again.

I just rolled my eyes.

I sat down next to Paul, stealing Alice's tequila, not wanting him to feel like a third wheel. "Hey, I'm Bella," I introduced myself.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know."

"So, I take it you work with Emmett," I started the conversation, sipping the drink. We had to begin _somewhere._

"Yes, I do. We're good buddies."

"Jared works in the hospital, too?"

"Oh, for god's sake, no," he laughed. "He's a lawyer."

"And he hangs out with doctors?"

"He's my bro. Besides, he and Emmett met first. He introduced us and only then we found out we work in the same hospital."

I smiled at him. He was cute. Not my usual, preferred kind of handsome… but still handsome. His smile was nice.

"So, what do you do, Bella?" he asked and raised one corner of his mouth flirtatiously.

 _Oh, two can play that game._

"I am a teacher," I said simply. "Not as exciting as being a doctor, I suppose, but it has its perks," I lowered my voice, hugging drinking straw with my lips.

"A teacher? Then what are you doing in a place like this?" he requested in a deep, husky voice.

 _Oh, yes. Here we go again._

This was the usual scenario. _What are you doing in a place like this... Oh, you know, I am not that innocent… Blah, blah, blah._ There were always some alterations to it, but it was basically always about the same thing. It was a certain bet to get a man where I wanted him. No man, and I mean _no man,_ could resist a naughty teacher. They all had their fantasies.

However, sometimes I bumped into a guy who took the flirtation to a completely different level. When that happened, he was practically in my bed already.

So, I continued as I would usually do. "Oh, you know, I am not that innocent."

I saw his Adam's apple hop. "I bet you're not."

"So, what it is that you do? I mean, I know, you're a doctor, but, what's your specialization?" I asked, hoping to change the direction of this whole exchange.

"I'm a psychiatrist."

I choked on my tequila and started coughing heavily.

"Hey, Bella, are you okay?!" Paul asked worriedly, his voice normal again, patting me on my back.

"I…" I coughed again. "I'm sorry. I choked."

He laughed. "Yeah, I noticed. You okay now?"

I blinked. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll just… excuse me for a sec," I said quickly, disappearing in the crowd. I quickly hurried to the ladies' toilets and when I saw the long queue, I turned and headed outside. It wasn't raining, I noticed.

Fuck, shit, damn, shit, fuck.

Shit.

"You okay?" some woman asked when she saw me breathing heavily.

I frowned at her. "What do you want?"

She chuckled. "Nothing. Cigarette?" she offered, holding out little package of Marlboros.

I looked at it. I didn't smoke. In fact, cigarettes repulsed me.

"Yeah, why not," I said, taking one. I put it in my mouth, she lighted it with her lighter and I sucked inward. I held the smoke in my mouth for a while, inhaled it and then started coughing.

Again.

The woman laughed. "A newbie, huh?"

"Yeah," I said absent-mindedly. I sucked on it for a few more times and then threw it away in disgust. The woman laughed again.

"Thanks, anyway," I mumbled. She said something in response, but I was already on my way back to the club.

A psychiatrist, huh?

When I returned, Rosalie and Emmett were back at the table. He was even bigger than I remembered him.

"Hi, Bella!" Rosalie beamed. They'd _definitely_ fucked. She had that post-fucking glow.

"Hey, Rose," I smiled forcefully. "Emmett," I nodded in his direction.

"Hi, Bella," he said reservedly. I didn't know why – and he never said it or did anything to confirm it – but I had a feeling he didn't really like me. I'd mentioned it to Rosalie after the first time she introduced me to him, but she immediately dismissed it. He loved Alice, there was no way he disliked me…

Yeah, to her, he was perfect.

"Bella, are you okay?" asked Paul with a genuine concern in his eyes.

I almost smiled at him. _Psychiatrist._ I grimaced, "Yeah, but I need to go home."

"What?" Rose asked in surprise. "You just got here!"

"No, I didn't," I said. "I came here like an hour ago or so, but you were too busy fucking Emmett," I burst out, being unusually mean.

She acted like she didn't hear a word. "Stay, Bella, we're having a great night."

"I'm not feeling well," I said. Technically, I didn't lie. "I better go home."

"Are you sure?" she asked, worried.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I smiled weakly. "Where's Alice?" I asked when I noticed she wasn't at the table.

"With Jared, dancing," Paul explained.

I took a few steps away from him. I can't believe I'd flirted with him.

I took my purse with me and kissed Rose on both cheeks. "Sorry, Rose, we'll talk later. Enjoy the night."

I gave the group one more fake smile and turned to leave. I heard Emmett say something incoherent, something about how everyone was leaving so soon.

Like I cared.

Pretty shaken, I managed to catch a cab. When I came home, I immediately fell onto bed and took three deep breaths.

Inhale.

Exhale.

 _Cool, I am okay now._

I closed my eyes, wishing to fall asleep immediately, but my phone rang. I knew it was Rosalie, so I didn't even bother to look at it. But then I decided to answer the phone and tell her to shut the fuck up, because I _really_ wanted to sleep.

"Rosalie, I beg you, let me be now, okay? I am really sorry if I fucked up your night, but-"

"It's me, honey," James laughed.

I opened my eyes widely. "James? What the fuck…?"

"Sorry, have I woken you up?"

"No, no, no, of course, you didn't," I mumbled quickly and smiled. "What are you doing? It's almost midnight."

"I just wanted to hear your voice," he said.

 _Ooooooh. You see?_

"That's very sweet of you," I replied. "Did you see the photo I sent you?"

"Sure, I saw it," he said, his voice getting huskier.

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it."

 _Awwww._

"I'm glad."

"Listen, Bella, have you picked something up for the next weekend?"

"Next weekend?" I asked in awe.

He laughed. "Yes. I don't want to waste any time."

Oh my god. I was so wet. "Not yet. But I'll get to it tomorrow, no problem."

"Good. But we should meet before next weekend, anyway," he said.

Yes, yes, yes! "I am free all nights of the week, James," I said in a low voice.

"Even better. I'll call you then, okay?"

"'kay," I smiled.

"Good night, Bella."

"Good night," I replied.

I grinned. I was back on my little cloud. Back in my little piece of heaven.

* * *

A/N **It's official. I am addicted to this story. I just can't stop writing. It is constantly on my mind.**

 **Please, PLEASE, if you like it, leave a review. I want to hear specifically from you *wink,wink* :) It keeps me writing. Keeps my muse kicking some ass.**

 **Since I'm going back to work tomorrow and I have some studying to do as well, I'll try to post next chapter as soon as possible. I haven't decided if it's gonna be past chapter or not, but the past is very sad and this Bella, even though she's stupid and blind as ever, is having fun. So, therefore I am having fun as well and I don't want to leave her just yet.**

 **We'll see.**

 **Thank you all for reading.**

 **Hugs and kisses,**

 **R.**


	6. When I Feel Too Much

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, Stephenie Meyer does. The storyline's mine :)**

 **WARNING** **: This chapter contains some graphic and possibly disturbing description of self-harm. Proceed with caution if you are sensitive to such images or feel discomfort reading about related topic.**

 **BTW, I really advise you to listen to this chapter's song. It beautifully represents its mood.**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

6\. Regina Spektor - Open

* * *

CHAPTER 5

 **When I Feel Too Much**

" _I am  
In a room I've built myself  
Four straight walls  
One floor  
One ceiling  
And day after day, I wake up feeling  
Day after day feeling, feeling."_

" _Potentially lovely  
Perpetually human  
Suspended and open  
Open  
Open  
Open."_

 _Friday, February 26, 1999_

 _Twisted pictures of already twisted black spirals are in my head. They are not leaving the awfully bright white square-shaped room. The spirals dance frantically around my first, old wooden box of crayons, but it is not only wooden, it is also colorful. It's covered in a blend of various colors. I look at the spirals and I know they are going to attack it and hijack it. They are going to take it away and the thought is causing my heart to slap into my ribcage from inside me in a frenzied manner. I am looking at my old box of crayons and want to save it and protect it from this black spiraling tornado that doesn't emanate any noise, but it is its muteness that sends shivers down my spine._

 _If I didn't look at it, I wouldn't even know they are there._

 _But I do see them. And as strong as my desire to rescue my little box is, I don't move. I just watch the black monsters swirling and silently hovering over my little world. It is as if I watched the room from outside, like if I saw the room from behind the glass wall._

 _And in the end, I see how my little wooden box of crayons cannot resist the pressure anymore._

 _The blackness surrounds it completely._

 _And then it's gone._

 _It's gone._

 _It is only black and white now. I hate white, because it is the emptiest and the most boring and unfulfilling color ever. And I hate black, because you can't really paint on black. Sure, you can, but the nature of the colors is not expressed properly. At least not in the way I want them to be expressed._

 _Again, I can't breathe._

 _I can't breathe._

 _Can't breathe._

 _Breathe._

 _I can't._

"Uaaaaah," I gasped violently, finding my breath again. This time I was one hundred percent sure I hadn't been breathing for a few seconds. I could still feel the pain in my throat, burning of the swelling in my larynx. I touched the skin of the throat.

These dreams were, sure, going to kill me.

Still lying, I squeezed my eyes, trying to see in the dark. I reached for the lamp on my bed table and knocked something on the floor. After few seconds of mindless tapping, I put the light on.

I sighed, touching my sweaty forehead. "Calm down, Bella."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Good.

And when I was starting to think that, luckily, tonight's show hadn't been loud enough to wake Charlie up, there was a knock on the door. "Bella? Are you alright?"

I swallowed guilt and took another deep breath to find my voice. "Yeah," I tried to say, but it came out as a very incoherent shaky noise. I coughed dryly. "I am perfectly fine, Dad. You didn't have to get up."

"Well… yeah," was his response. He'd said it wasn't the screaming itself but how hitched and out of breath my screams were that always woke him up.

"Really, Dad, go to sleep, I am good."

And he left.

I exhaled deeply, tears welling in my eyes. I clasped my fingers tightly under my back, focusing on the weight of my body as it pressed on my hands. It was only a question of time until he would send me away. I knew it. For how long would he keep me until it would be appropriate enough to give up on me? One, two more months? Was it even less?

I had to breathe deeply.

I clasped the fingers even more tightly.

I missed my Mom. I missed her so much. It pained in every little corner of my chest. Every time I thought of her face, her voice, her smile…her eyes. The way she'd hugged me when she knew something was wrong even without asking. The way she'd analyze my every drawing and painting, the way she'd sung to me when I was a little girl.

 _Where are you, Mommy?_

 _I so don't want to be here._

 _Where are you?_

 _I am so alone without you. So lost. So hopeless._

I knew what was coming. I needed to push it away – the hurricane of sadness, desperation, grief and desolation which was even more intense at night. I needed to push it somewhere else, to a different realm.

I turned to grab my sketchbook I kept by my side almost 24/7 these days, and realized it was the thing I'd knocked on the floor. I sat up and picked it up, reaching for the drawing pencil and resting against the headboard of the bed.

Inhale. Exhale.

Good.

Let's draw.

It was hard to describe the place I got into when I touched my paintbrush or pencil. It was like nothing else in the world. I stopped thinking about all the feelings, emotions and monsters that were trying to kill me. I stopped thinking about the new house, new room and new bed. I stopped thinking about Dad and Sue and their obvious discomfort caused by my presence in their house.

I stopped thinking.

And you would think that I stopped feeling.

But I didn't.

I felt, but I felt it all _into_ what I was drawing or painting.

I hadn't realized it, never before, only now, when my pieces were so much darker, so much more… constricted, so much more… uneasy. They weren't nice to look at and I didn't like them despite how sickly attractive I found their depth.

I was weird.

Dad despised them, Sue as well. Actually, the first time she'd seen them was completely unintentional. I would have never showed her my drawings on purpose. It was the first week after Christmas holiday and I came home after another socially exhausting day in school. It'd seemed like no one was home and that never was a bad thing for me. We were still getting used to each to other at that point. I'd decided to go to my room, lock myself in and release some steam by listening to music and maybe later I would finally paint something after such a long time of using just a pencil or crayons. But when I opened my room, I found Sue in there, going through some of my stuff.

I swallowed an uncomfortable feeling of uneasiness and anger I shouldn't have felt and smiled apologetically. It was her house, anyway.

"Hey, Sue," I said, unsure if I should leave her there until she'd find what she needed. "I can come in later," I said, ready to turn away when I noticed my sketchbook open wide on the bed.

A knife sunk into my chest.

When she noticed where I was looking, she grimaced. "I found it in your drawer. Where did you get them? They're pretty awful, those things, you keep lookin' at them and they get you into a depression or something. And we don't want that, do we?" she giggled. I frowned. "I might get rid of them for you if you want."

"No!" I snapped. "Don't touch them!"

 _Oh, Bella, what are you doing?_

Sue lift her brows in shock at my strong verbal defense and then frowned. "Watch your tongue, young lady," she said back in a harsh voice. "I might not be your mother, but I live with your father and I deserve at least some degree of respect."

I felt how my insides shrunk back to their places. "I'm so very sorry, Sue," I apologized immediately, fighting tears. "I didn't mean it, it's just… they're important to me."

"Just keep your voice down next time, okay? Does your father know about them?"

"I am fairly sure he knows about them, in a way," I said cryptically. He knew I was drawing. But I didn't show him my pieces often, particularly not those.

"And what does that mean?"

"He knows I'm drawing."

Sue's eyes opened. "Those are yours?"

I nodded. I felt my legs stepping backwards, it was like they had a mind of their own.

 _It was so wrong to disturb her. I should've just let her throw the pictures out and let her be. It was her house. Not mine. Her room. Not mine. Do you want to go to the foster care?_

She snorted and turned her attention to what she was doing. She dismissed me. With fluid covering my gaze I quickly left the house, wandering around cold, wet and slushy Forks until it was too dark for me to see.

So, yeah. They weren't really fans. It hurt, a little, but I was used to that.

I snapped back from my trance and looked at what I was drawing. The spirals again. I lost the track of how many drawings that included spirals – in one way or another – I had, but it shouldn't have been so surprising given the fact I dreamed of them almost every night. And almost every night Dad knocked on my door, asking me if I was alright. And as always, I said I was. At first, a very little part of me wished him to come into my room anyway and hold me, or just hug me for a second. The pain wouldn't be so crazy to bear. But he never did, and I completely understood. He was tired and sleepy, working really hard at the police station. It wasn't my place to demand anything from him, I had so much already.

I had to take care of myself.

Because Mom wasn't here anymore.

And I was alone in this.

I had to keep myself out of trouble, so Daddy wouldn't need to send me away. But so far, nothing was in my favor. I couldn't get rid of my wild dreams, Sue didn't like me and he was barely talking to me…

Yep. I was so going away.

When my eyes started to flutter and the grip of my hand on the pencil loosened enough for me to not be able to draw properly, I gave up and drifted into dreamless but uneasy and shallow sleep.

* * *

 _Wednesday, April 21, 1999_

"So, are you going to finally honor me with an answer, Bella?"

He was furious. So furious. I had never seen him like that before. And it was all my fault. It was all my fault.

I fought tears, because he hated when I cried. But I couldn't find the right words.

"Bella? I am talking to you, for Christ's sake!"

I gathered all of the voice strength I had. "It won't happen again."

He snorted. "Yeah, you said that three weeks ago."

I looked at fingers in my lap that were covered with little red scars. I laced them together, so he wouldn't notice.

I didn't say anything and shrugged. I didn't really know how _not_ to sleep.

"Your teacher is getting on my nerves with her complaints about how you casually drift off during classes. Like I have any spare time to deal with that shit!"

 _Inhale, exhale._

"And why do you skip classes?" he continued.

I squeezed my eyes, still looking at my lap. "I didn't do it on purpose, Dad. I swear, I fell asleep on the toilets."

He breathed heavily. "Don't you sleep at nights?"

I shook my head, my cheeks red. I felt so ashamed, so lost.

"Are you going to send me away now?" I piped.

"What?"

"You're sending me away, aren't you?" I asked and looked up. He shook his head, but didn't say anything.

"There is one more thing we need to talk about," he said few seconds later, showing me few of my recent drawings. I knew they were new because spirals changed to dragons with slimy tongues and scary wings. Dreams had changed, approximately, a month ago and I couldn't find more than two hours of sleep since then.

"Where did you get it, Dad?" I asked, totally frightened. How did he get them? I hadn't showed him anything in weeks!

"Sue gave them to me," he explained.

I clenched my jaw. _Not my house. Not my room. It was theirs. It was hers. It was her room._

"Why do you keep drawing this shit? Not that I like your other stuff but at least it's not as sickening as those are. This is what you do during nights?" he asked, and I couldn't look away from him. "Bella, look," he said, more calmly, "I am really trying to make this right, this whole dad thing, but you're not helping."

It was my fault.

"I am so sorry, Daddy," I said, tears now flowing down the creeks on my cheeks. "I didn't want to make you upset, I am so sorry, I promise, I won't fall asleep in school, again, I promise," I cried and if I wasn't sitting on the chair behind the kitchen table, I would fall on my knees and beg him like a slave.

 _Please, don't send me away!_

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Okay, okay. Just make sure you get some sleep, okay? I don't need this crazy teacher of yours call me all the time to tell me that you fell asleep during the class. Again."

I vigorously nodded, feeling nails in the skin of my fingers, pinching the not completely healed scars.

"But what about these?" he motioned with his head to my drawings.

My chest tightened. "What about them?"

"They're awful," he said, matter-o-factly.

I tried not to let him know how it hurt. "You don't like them," I stated.

"No one does."

"What about the other ones? I mean, my other paintings and drawings?" I asked, with a hint of hope in my voice. "How do you like those?"

He shrugged and looked down at my drawings of dragon stealing little wooden box of crayons. "You know I never understood that stupid thing your mother forced you to do. So useless," he said and then looked at me, chuckling. "You don't think you can make a living by doing this shit, do you?"

I swallowed.

 _I do._

I did think that. I wanted that. I actually started to look at some courses and art schools. There were some very good scholarships.

I looked at my fingers again.

He started laughing. "Oh, come on, Bella! This is just ridiculous! You can't possibly think it'll give you roof over your head," he continued.

I nodded. Because I knew. Even though I really wanted that, I knew how hard it would be to get so good at it I wouldn't have to do anything else. And I knew that no one liked what I painted and how I painted it…

There had to be some relevance to that.

Maybe I wasn't that good.

Yeah, I was probably pretty average.

Maybe even bad in some aspects, like technique or the ability to capture the atmospehere.

I just didn't see it. Mom would've never said to me that my piece was awful. Dad was just honest. He didn't want to hurt me, for sure.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Can I go to my room now?"

"Sure, sure… just get some sleep, 'kay?"

I nodded again, grabbed my drawings and ran to my room.

The moment the door closed, all bottled up tension got out. I started letting out long, soundless sobs that were hitching in my throat and making my chest tighten even more. I covered my mouth with one hand, supporting myself with the other that was holding the drawings, touching the wall. All sounds were buried but it was that more painful. My cheeks and eyes were wet, my knees so weak they broke and I fell on the floor. I pressed the pieces of paper to my chest and wanted to merge them with my body.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," I was mouthing soundlessly, sobbing.

 _Mommy, where are you?_

 _Mommy, come for me._

 _Mommy._

 _Mommy._

 _I love you. I need you._

When my panicky breathing ceased enough for me to start thinking properly, I moved myself onto the bed. I covered my shivering cold body with comforter and started to focus on my breath.

 _Inhale._

 _Exhale._

Holding dragons and their tongues still closely to my chest, I felt sleep coming and for once I welcomed it with open arms… or I would've.

 _Bang, bang, bang_ on the door. "Bella! Dinner is on the table, where the hell are you?!" Sue.

I didn't respond. I didn't have the strength.

"Bella?!"

I shut my eyes again.

I heard Dad shouting something at her.

"Why do I even bother to take care of that bastard…" I heard her say as she was leaving, but before I allowed the crushing weight of her words fall on my shoulders, I'd already invited exhaustion sleep to take me completely.

XOXOXOXOXOX

I woke up panting and grasping for the air again. I had a routine already for nights like this. At first, I inhaled deeply into my lungs for three times and exhaled with a loud whoosh coming from my mouth. The sound helped me to realize that I was back in reality, helped me to distract my mind. Then I reached for the lamp on my bed table and I didn't even have to tap in the space anymore, I knew exactly where the switch was. Then, still lying on the bed, I reached for the cotton handkerchief I kept beside the lamp to wipe my forehead and then reached for the glass of water, because my throat was burning. But there was no glass.

 _Of course, I didn't bring any._

I was really thirsty, but in no mood to go down to the kitchen. I was so tired, yet I couldn't sleep, because if previous nightmares had been wild, these were downright scary. Black dragon with white eyes, but without any voice. He was howling, but no sound came out of his mouth. He was mute, just as the spirals. The whole picture of this dragon, his tongue, stealing my beautiful colorful box of crayons was terrifying. It felt almost real.

I missed Mom.

I missed her so much.

The images of tonight's - or better said _yesterday_ 's – afternoon flooded my head and I felt tears yet again. My eyes must have been so puffy and swollen. The pain made itself known again and if it was able to cause any physical damage I would have had a hole in my chest by now. We, humans, were actually lucky there was no such thing. I bet all of us would have a hole or two in our bodies. I hoped that with time the pain would be more bearable and less prominent. But no. There was nothing that would lessen its impact on me and nothing that would make Mom's memory more enjoyable and less painful. I couldn't even think of her without a tear or two and the sudden feeling of loneliness.

I swallowed and my throat burned. Skipping the water ritual, I looked at my sketchbook. I always started to draw after my nightmare, to refocus and to stop my thoughts from occupying my mind. But then I remembered Dad's words, how Sue was in my room, how they both hated the drawings and how it hurt. But to make them upset and ignite the fire even more was the last thing on my wish-list. Dad didn't say he was giving up on me, but I could never be sure. He didn't exactly deny it either. And he didn't like my pieces. Maybe I should really stop. At least with those dark drawings. I didn't need to get into more trouble than I already was.

He didn't even bother to knock on my door at the night anymore. For which I was grateful.

So, I laid there, on my bed, looking at the ceiling, my fingers feeling empty. I grabbed my comforter to stop them from mindless twitching. They always felt empty without a paintbrush, pencil or crayon, but now especially. I sighed and swallowed, feeling the burning.

 _I might as well go and get that glass of water. I am definitely not going to sleep anymore._

I got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. I tried to be quiet, but I tripped over the edge of the little carpet in the hall hitting the wooden floor loudly with my other foot and catching myself by holding the doorframe. Standing still for a couple of moments I was trying to notice any noises that would indicate I'd woken someone up, but the house was dead silent. I proceeded to the kitchen lighted slightly by the moonlight and filled a glass with ice cold water. I sighed loudly at the feeling of chilly water running down my burning throat and closed my eyes in relief.

Good.

I filled the glass again with the intention to take it upstairs with me when I noticed a kitchen knife in the sink, the smallest one Sue had. My eyes darted to my fingers and then back to the knife. I put the glass aside on the kitchen counter and took a knife to my hands. The blade didn't look off-putting or scary enough to stop me from what I already had decided to do. I mean… it helped the other day, so why not tonight if I was forbidden to draw? I needed to stop this waterfall of confusion and pain and things I felt but couldn't get rid of. And it'd helped before.

I washed the knife thoroughly, dried it and returned to my room as silently as I could manage. I rushed, feeling sickly content in anticipation of cutting myself again. I would make myself feel better. It was painful, yes, but… I didn't think. I was focusing on the physical pain, on the odd rusty smell of blood and making it stop. Razors were good in a way how subtle they were. It didn't really hurt at first when I accidentally brushed the razor alongside my fingers in the shower. But a few seconds later, when the blood started to run down my fingers, the slight burning pain turned into a fire. And then I brushed the razor against the fingers again, but intentionally and more deeply. It took me quite some time to stop the bleeding, but never had I felt bigger rush of adrenaline running through my veins. How would a knife feel against my skin? And what part of my skin would I cut?

Like I said, it made me sickly content… happy even. Just the feeling I got from drawing.

I put the glass of water on my bed table and took the old t-shirt I no longer wore. I would need it later. Shaking a little I looked over my body and tried to critically think about what place should I cut next. The fingers? Nah, the scars from my previous cutting were not healed yet. The wrists? Too visible. Then, my eyes slid to my bare thighs, covered only with the hem of my shorts. Yeah, thighs would be good. The skin was not so thin and nobody would see a thing.

I put the t-shirt underneath my thighs and took the knife in my shaky hands. The first time was not intentional. But now… I was consciously deciding for it. And it wasn't a razor, but a knife.

 _Inhale. Exhale._

 _It would be okay, now, Bella. The pain would go away. All of it._

 _Just cut yourself. Now._

And I did. I put the knife closely to the white skin of my right thigh, put some pressure and was surprised how easily the blade penetrated soft flesh. The pain was immediate and it taken me aback a little. I hissed, but I didn't stop. I slid the knife horizontally across the thigh, not going too deep as I didn't want to cut any important veins, and watched how carmine blood was rushing out of the cut, creating a little stream flowing down, soaking into the fabric of the t-shirt.

 _Yes. I can feel it. It_ ' _s good. It hurts, but not as much as my chest._

I made another cut. And then another. The fifth and last one was the deepest, most painful and most messy, but I didn't care. I felt good. Distracted. Numb. I felt as if I just draw a masterpiece, not with a paintbrush on a canvas though, but with a knife on my thigh. Five was just enough for tonight and even though I knew my deed was beyond wrong and sick, it didn't matter at that moment.

It felt good.

I reveled in the physical burning for a while longer, until I realized that I needed to take care of the cuts. I cleaned the blade with the t-shirt and put it aside. Then I covered my burning thighs with the cotton fabric and hissed again. It hurt, but I had to stop the bleeding. I put the pressure on the cuts, feeling the burning that now – when I was 'sober' - was becoming a little bit more uncomfortable, but never did it fail me in diverting my mind from the pain in my chest. And that was enough.

Eventually, I'd had to take another t-shirt, because the first one was soaked in the red fluid. But the bleeding stopped. I put both t-shirts in my schoolbag, knowing that hiding it in my room wasn't a sensible decision since Sue felt obliged to check up on me every now and then. I used some plasters on the cuts as I had no idea what to do about them. Exhausted and now entirely aware of what I did, I shut my eyes.

This was wrong. Utterly, entirely, sickly, downright _wrong._

 _Crap, Bella. You're so stupid._

But I was tired and I had few hours left before the alarm would go off. I gently covered my injured leg with the comforter, trying to ignore subtle burning on my thigh, and fell into one of those restless but dreamless sleeps thinking of Mom, imagining her arms wrapped tightly around me and whispering in my ear, assuring me that one day, my dreams would come true.

* * *

 _Saturday, July 3, 1999_

It was unusually sunny day in Forks. The school had finished and it was time for me to get ready for my first year in high school.

 _Hm, fantastic. Can't wait._

And since it was so beautiful outside and I couldn't hide behind homework anymore, Charlie insisted on taking me to La Push with him and Sue. She was a Native American from the Quileute reservation just a few miles away from Forks, and La Push was the place where the rez was located. He had a couple of friends there and it was his favorite place for fishing.

"Come on, Bella! We don't have all day!" Dad shouted from downstairs. I was considering taking the sketchbook with me, to draw some cliffs maybe since I heard it was a beautiful place, but because I had nothing else but dragons on my mind, I left it at home. I grabbed my backpack, hurried downstairs and tried to smile apologetically at Dad.

"Sorry, Dad."

He didn't say anything, but Sue emerged from the kitchen. "You're always so late! One day you're gonna pay for it, young lady."

I clenched my jaw. It was almost an automatic reaction. But I had to listen to Sue. It was Dad's house, her house, Dad's girlfriend and I had to listen. Dad was good to me, he didn't send me away and I had to be grateful for it. And I was.

After that fiasco of falling asleep in school it took some time until I managed to learn how not to fall asleep in school. The dreams hadn't disappeared, they just got more graphic and quicker in motion which resulted in my bigger confusion, pain and shortness of breath. Dad had never brought it up again. He didn't complain about anything, so I guess he must have been glad that I stopped drawing my dreams. The fact that he didn't send me away was speaking for itself.

However, as I stopped drawing, cutting continued. Suddenly it had become an urge. And I couldn't fight it anymore. I didn't want to. I still painted, of course, but what I painted was never something I wanted to paint. The paintings seemed too empty. As if they were lacking a soul and they didn't satisfy me anymore. So, I cut and then cut some more. Mostly thighs and my belly, because I was able to cover them. I never touched my wrists or fingers with a blade, pink scars on my white skin would be too much visible.

Sitting in the car I wondered why I hadn't come up with an excuse to this whole nonsense. Like I needed to go fishing…

But. It was for Dad. And I had to listen.

We arrived at La Push, parking in front of a little red wooden house. Well, _red_ was a little bit general. It was the shade ranging from slight cinnabar red, with slight orange touch, to rusty red, but those colors were so shaded that it was hard to identify the original one. Anyway, the house was ridiculously small. Not that Dad's was huge or something, but definitely sufficient enough in comparison to this one. An old pickup was parked in front of it and if I was asked to identify that color I'd say it was atomic tangerine. Shaded orange with the hint of red and pink, basically, a little fluorescent aftertaste. Not my favorite color.

Dad and Sue get off the car immediately and it took me a few seconds until I persuaded myself to join them. Dad never said anything about who we were visiting but I already felt uncomfortable. I wanted this day to be over.

We entered the house and were greeted by the man in a wheelchair.

"Charlie! Come on, man! Haven't seen you in a while!" said the man and smiled widely. He had long dark black hair and even darker onyx eyes. "Hello, Sue, how is my girl holding up, huh?" he greeted her. After that he turned his eyes to me and I felt the need to touch my throat, massage it and make the lump in my throat disappear.

 _Inhale, exhale. Just breathe, Bella._

 _Couldn't I just go home?_

"And you must be Bella," he said. "My name is Billy Black." He outstretched his hand.

I shook it lightly, uncomfortable at the touch.

"Where's Jacob?" Dad asked.

Billy frowned. "Ahh, you know. He's running around with this bunch of kids from the rez. He's never at home. And if he is, he's in the garage, working on his car."

Charlie didn't say anything.

"You're going fishing today, Charlie?" Billy asked.

"Maybe, I mean… we can ang out with you for a while and go later, what do you think, baby?" Dad turned to Sue. He never asked me what I thought about anything, but I guess he didn't really need to know what I was thinking.

"Sure," nodded Sue and then looked over at me. "Why don't you go for a walk, Bella? It's nice around here. Did you bring that wicked sketchbook of yours? You can finally draw something pretty," she giggled and I just looked down. Dad didn't pay attention to us, he was talking to Billy. It was obvious she didn't want me there and I had no desire to stay.

Wordless, I left the house. Guided by my instinct I found the First Beach and took a long walk alongside a beautiful ocean shore. It took my mind away from things I didn't wanted to think about. I watched wild ocean waves braking at the cliffs, the sky too bright for Olympic Peninsula and dark green forest too thick for me to enter, simply because I would get lost in five minutes. I breathed salty wet air and ignored my hair tangling itself because of the frantic wind.

Yes, it was a beautiful place and I could see immediately from what angle and in what atmosphere I'd like to capture the scenery in front of me. Maybe I'd return later and bring my paints and canvas altogether with an old easel my Mom had bought me years ago. I was slowly but surely running out of certain colors of paints, but I wasn't sure if Dad would buy me any if I asked him. Maybe he would, but I had to ask him when Sue wasn't around. She would never allow such _expenditure_ and I knew she was right. It wasn't that necessary, my paints. I could live without them, couldn't I?

Breathing heavily again, I shifted the attention of my mind on the dark water again. It was almost black, but not quite. Space cadet blue, beautiful color. Blue was my favorite. Whatever shade… Well, maybe except for turquoise and its variations. Too shiny and bright for me.

I didn't know for how long was I walking around La Push but I managed to return to the Billy Black's house from the other side than the one I'd originally departed from. As I was approaching the house I noticed a building standing behind it, of the same shaded red color, but considerably bigger. Was this their garage?

I had to walk around it to get to the house. Because I knew I was out longer than I should've, I quickened my step. I took a sharp turn around the corner of the garage and bumped into something warm and hard. I fell down.

"Fuck, could you watch where you walk?!" that something called. I looked up and saw that it wasn't something, but someone, and that _someone_ was a dark skinned, dark haired and dark eyed boy who looked just like a younger version of Billy Black.

When he noticed how I was staring at him, I turned my gaze away and pulled myself up quickly. I felt my face go crimson red. I was ready to – literally – run away, but he grabbed my elbow. I jerked at his touch. He was so warm.

I shook him off.

"Who are you?" he asked harshly.

I looked directly into his black eyes. "Bella. Bella Swan."

He looked like he was trying to remember my name and then his eyes reflected a recognition. "Chief Swan's daughter, right?"

I nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey! Wait!" he shouted and in seconds I felt him walking beside me. "Wanna hang out with me and my friends this afternoon?" he asked.

I looked up at him in shock. "What?"

He smiled smugly. "We might not know each other, but you look like you could use a company. And our dads are best friends."

"I am not really sure…"

At that moment, Charlie and Sue came out of the house, carrying fishing equipment. They noticed me and the boy standing just beside the old pickup.

"Hi, Jake!" waved Sue and smiled.

"Oh, hey, Jacob," said Charlie to the boy, but he didn't say anything about me being late. He didn't even look at me. Was it bad or good? Did I mess up?

 _Agrhh, I could never figure out what I was doing right and what wrong._

"Hi, guys," said Jacob.

"Come on, Bella, don't stand there like a stunned mule and get in the car, we have to go, weather's getting worse," Dad shouted in my direction. When I wanted to move, I felt something pulling my t-shirt on my back. It was Jacob's hand.

"Chief Swan, I was just talking to Bella and she said she'd like to hang out with me and the guys today," Jacob said, smug smile on his face. "If that's okay, of course."

 _What?!_

But I couldn't say a word in protest. I didn't want to.

Charlie looked at me for the first time since we left home and contemplated if it was a good idea to leave me with Jacob. Something was telling me he was one of those bad guys. Charlie was a cop. He knew those things.

But he just shrugged. "Okay, she could use a little bit of fun, couldn't you, Bella?" he asked me but didn't wait for an answer. "Just stay out of trouble, Jacob, so I don't need to save you from arrest again, 'kay? And tell Sam to drive her home."

Jacob smirked. "Don't worry, Chief, I'll keep an eye on her," he said and winked at me. My stomach flipped.

Dad and Sue left in their car and I was left with Jacob who was now grinning at me like he won a lottery. Even though I liked his attention, it was too presumptuous of him to expect I wanted to spend time with him and his friends.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"What?" he looked at me.

"Why did you say I want to spend afternoon with you and your friends?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bella! What idiot would want to spend day with their dad fishing?" he looked at me like I was crazy for even thinking about doing it. "We're gonna have fun."

Was it that bad if I went fishing with them? Not that I wanted but…

"Don't stand there like a stunned mule and come with me," Jacob said and laughed when I didn't follow him to the garage.

So, I did.

Jacob showed me his Rabbit he was putting together, which was supposedly a car that now looked like anything but car. He said it was still in the process and there were still too many parts he was missing. It was impressive, though. I couldn't say the difference between a nut bolt and a nail.

He showed me everything in his little garage. He was passionate about it. He saw I was not really into having any conversation, so most of the time it was just him talking. Later, three guys came to see Jacob and I suddenly felt uneasy. Who were these boys? They were ogling me and whistling, making inappropriate comments about me and Jacob.

 _Why did I sign up for this?_

Jacob saw my distress. "Hey, fuckers, shut it up. This is Bella and she's gonna hang out with us, today. Bella, these assholes are Quil, Embry and Sam."

Quil and Embry looked very similar and I knew that moment I was going to have a problem saying who was who. But Sam was obviously older than us. Later, Jacob told me that he, Quil and Embry were fourteen, just like me, and Sam was sixteen. He was going to be a junior at the Forks High and Embry, Quil and Jacob were starting as freshmen with me.

"Where the hell is Leah and Seth?" asked Jacob, looking at something in his 'car'.

Sam shrugged. "They wanted to see Sue, she is with them now." Dad was fishing alone in the end.

Jacob nodded and I had to remind myself later to ask who were Leah and Seth.

After a while we set off for the beach and when I timidly asked Jacob what for, he smiled and winked at me again. "That's a surprise, Bella."

It was already almost twilight. The sun was setting down through the clouds and once again I could see the scenery painted in my head. I definitely had to return back and capture it.

The boys gathered some driftwood and ignited a colorful fire. I had no idea if it was allowed, but the colors mesmerized me. Guys were joking and teasing each other, and I couldn't help but smile at the ease flowing between them. I was okay as long as I was near Jacob, but other boys made me feel nervous. In the course of the evening I smiled and I laughed and it felt good. The emptiness and pain were still there, but the novelty of the surroundings and people were a welcomed fresh air in my mundane existence.

Strangely enough, when I'd been alone with Jacob, it didn't feel unpleasant. He was obviously a problematic kid by the look of things and even though he made fun of me, it was never insulting. He made me laugh and that was a terrific achievement on its own. And he was smiling a lot. I liked it. Though, I couldn't overhear pack's – as they called themselves - profound vocabulary of swear words. But it didn't make me uncomfortable, it was simply who they were.

The only thing I couldn't understand was why Jacob wanted me to be with them. Why he was so nice to me and why he talked to me in the first place. I always thought I wasn't a good friend, because I never had any. Kids never wanted to be with me. Back in Phoenix I was a weirdo, a wallflower, that crazy girl who painted crazy things. So why Jacob did want me to come and sit around the fire with him and his friends?

 _Enjoy, Bella, enjoy. This is not gonna happen again._

But it did. Few days later Jacob called Charlie and asked him if I could come down to La Push. Charlie agreed but was reluctant to drive me there, so Jacob said Sam would pick me up. That night I met Leah and Seth and learned that they lived with their dad Harry and that Sue was his sister. Their mother died when they were only five and four. Leah was now fifteen and she dated Sam. Seth was a year younger and he was the brightest kid I've ever met.

And before I knew it I was hanging out with the pack almost every summer night. Charlie never said a word about Sam's car waiting for me almost every afternoon, only Sue uttered something about me having a bad influence on Seth and Leah. Well, if she heard those kids… One day I thought about my watercolor paints and how much I wanted to paint the ocean and the sky on the First Beach. But I decided against it. In Phoenix they didn't like me because I was painting. Now I could be Bella without paints, crayons and canvases. Just Bella and they didn't mind. I was a _good friend_ with all of them. They liked me. I had to keep them. Even if it meant I couldn't paint. As long as their free selves and honesty I wasn't allowed to enjoy were pumping blood in my veins when I felt like dying, it'd do anything to keep them.

And Jacob? To him I was _Bells._ We always found some time to talk, just the two of us. Or better said, he was talking and smiling and making me feel like I belonged. I became very comfortable with him. The kids and Jake knew about Mom, of course, but never brought it up. One day, Jake asked me why did I always wear long jeans when it was finally so warm. I just shrugged.

He didn't want to see my scars.

And that was how my first summer without Mom looked like…

Bright during days with Jake, _my friend,_ and his pack.

Dark during nights, fighting dragons and stopping blood running from the cuts.

* * *

A/N **Any thoughts? Did you listen to the song? What do you think?**

 **I apologize, but I won't be able to upload in the next two weeks, but I hope I'll get back to it as soon as possible.**

 **Hugs and kisses,**

 **R.**


	7. When I Have To Survive

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight related. The storyline, however, is mine :)**

 **WARNING :** **This chapter contains some graphic and possibly disturbing description of self-harm. Proceed with caution if you are sensitive to such images or feel discomfort reading about related topic.**

 **A HUGE THANKS to EdwardsFirstKiss who has become my beta and is doing a wonderful job in editing and consulting with me on story-related issues I have. Thanks so much! Again :)**

 **And now, my darlings, enjoy. R.**

 **(As much as you can, really. This is one DARK chapter.)**

* * *

7\. Green Day – The Forgotten

* * *

CHAPTER 6

 **When You Have To Survive**

" _Where in the world's the forgotten?  
They're lost inside your memory  
You're dragging on, your heart's been broken  
As we all go down in history."_

" _Where in the world did the time go?  
It's where your spirit seems to roam  
Like losing faith to our abandon  
Or an empty hallway from a broken home  
Well, don't look away from the arms of a bad dream  
Well, don't look away, sometimes you're better lost than to be seen."_

 _Saturday, September 19, 2002_

I was breathing heavily and moaning loudly under his warm touch.

"You like it?" he snickered smugly.

I smiled. I more than liked it and he knew it. Idiot.

His hand moved to my knee and travelled slowly up, caressing my hip, to the hem of my t-shirt. I felt his hot fingers on my skin and I shuttered. His mouth on mine again, I felt his arousal between my legs.

What was it… the word… fuck?

Yes.

 _Oh, fuck._

He stopped playing with my breasts over the thin fabric, now solely focused on something else. It took me only a second to figure out what.

I touched his hand. "No," I whispered with a resolution in my voice that surprised me. Yes, I was aroused, if that was the term. Yes, I had no idea what this boy was doing to me, and yes, I trusted him. But there was no way that he was going to see my scars. Not yet.

He whined. "Bella, come on, we've been through this already!" he said and moved his hand dangerously up the side of my scarred stomach, his lips near my earlobe, whispering huskily. "Let me make you feel good, Bells. It's just a t-shirt, you'll love it."

This time it was me who whined. I wanted this. But I didn't want him to see my ugly body. No, I certainly didn't want that.

Crap!

"Jake… I… I am not ready," I said in a small voice, tightening my diaphragm so sensitive upon any touch near my stomach.

The change in my demeanor didn't escape him. He sighed in frustration.

 _I annoyed him again. I am a terrible girlfriend._

He pulled himself away from me and the loss of his heat made me shiver. He fell on his back beside me, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't understand, Bella! Is there something wrong with… me?"

I vehemently shook my head. "No, Jake, of course not!" I protested, supporting myself on an elbow, facing him. "You know I like you. It's just…" Well, I didn't know. I loved when he touched me, caressed me… I would be lying if I said that I hadn't found his touch uncomfortable at first, foreign even. No one had really touched me besides Mom before. But watching Sam and Emily, Quil and Claire… I had found myself yearning for that kind of connection with someone. And Jacob had always been my best friend; he had always held my hand.

Very soon, I became addicted to his touch.

He was so handsome and every girl in school was drooling over him. His lanky body had filled up with a mass of muscles and he was even taller than Sam now. He was so attractive that suddenly I had found _myself_ attracted to him. To the way his biceps flexed when he pulled his long black hair into a ponytail, how his brows narrowed and threw a shadow over his black eyes when he was annoyed at Embry or when he smiled at me and the wave of ease and heat that washed over my body when he did. We had always only been friends. So, why had my feelings toward him changed so abruptly? Or, had they changed? Hadn't I wanted something more for the whole duration of our friendship?

I didn't know the answer to any of those questions, because – either way – there was no possibility that he would feel more for me. And knowing that hurt. Though, I couldn't give up on him. He was my sun, my Jacob.

But then, so sure of himself - as always - a smug smile on his beautiful face, he had said: "Bella, why don't we date?"

I was speechless.

And ecstatic.

Was this really happening?

When we finally had started dating this summer, I'd been thrilled. Now, he was my best friend. _And_ boyfriend.

"It's just that I don't feel like doing more now," I continued my thought, not lying really. I wasn't feeling that adventurous. Not yet.

He looked at me. "I won't hurt you." His voice was strong, certain.

I smiled at his reassurance. But could I be sure? I certainly didn't trust him enough to tell him about my dangerous night escapades including blades and blood.

He pressed himself up on his elbow as well, now mirroring me. "Look, Bella…" he stopped, his tanned cheeks getting a tint of a reddish touch. "I, I love you, 'kay? Like, I am… _fuck-"_ I loved when he swore- "… am seriously in love with you."

My mouth fell open.

 _In love with me?_

"I mean, I think," he added quickly, his brows furrowed.

And my head was buzzing.

 _Oh, fuck! Shit - that works, too. What am I going to do now? What am I going to_ do _now? I am done. This feels strange. But good. Strange, but good. Warming, really. Really? Isn't it, after all, isn't this what I wanted? Isn't it? I mean… He loves me. Like… really loves me. And he wants me. Me. Oh, that_ feels _good. He wants me. Jacob. Handsome Jacob Black. My best friend. Wants me._

I felt the rays of the sun warming my insides.

I smiled at him. "Really?" I breathed.

"Yep," he said and chuckled. "What? Are you going to dump me now, Swan?"

Was I?

No way.

"No."

"Good," he smiled. "Because I wouldn't let you go." He put his hand on my waist and pulled me closer.

I snuggled to him. "Thank you."

I felt his chest shutter with a snort. "What are you thanking me for?"

I shrugged. What I was thanking him for?

We lay there for a little while longer. I was holding tightly to his torso, the way I always did, because he made me feel safe.

Was I in love with Jacob? I couldn't tell. Yes, I was attracted to him; I wanted him to be my boyfriend… He was my protector, he stood by my side, and I was hanging out with his pack of wolves. When I had met him, I had finally felt like I had been accepted. Not entirely understood, but… like they didn't mind me being with them. We had gotten so used to each other, Jacob's friends and me, that now I was often the target of their stupid jokes. But as silly as they sometimes were, I liked it. It meant that they felt comfortable around me enough to make fun of me. Though, Jake got all protective when he thought they crossed the line. And I liked that, too.

So, did it mean I was in love with him? I mean… When I imagined being _without_ Jacob…

I shuddered. No, I couldn't be without him. He was my personal heat machine. My sun. I woke up looking forward to seeing him in school, being with him and the pack all day, spending afternoons in La Push, and then going home, only to pick up the phone and talk to him some more.

Was I able to let him go?

No.

Was it love?

"We should go, they're going to start looking for us," he interrupted my train of thought.

I sighed. "Yeah, we should."

We were hiding in Jacob's room. Every Saturday the pack hung out at the beach around a bonfire, having fun, playing some music – Seth played guitar - and also drinking. We never went to First Beach, of course, but to the smaller, more remote one, hidden from the eyes of the tribal Elders. If they knew we were drinking, we would get into some serious trouble. Even now, we were a little drunk. I liked that feeling. It made me relax, and forget my heavy thoughts.

We got up and slowly, hand in hand, left the house, and walked towards the beach. I shivered, it was getting cold. Jacob put his arm around my shoulders. Soon enough, we heard the music and loud voices, whistling and laughing. It was some traditional Quileute melody that we heard, spoiled by Embry's howling. We turned around the stone wall and saw the crackling fire. The energy was light and flowing and I felt good again. I was drawn to the way they interacted with each other. It felt… comfortable. I could breathe easily around them.

"Oh, shut up, Embry! You're gonna wake up the wolves!" laughed Seth who was playing with the strings of his guitar.

"I'm just paying tribute to our culture and history. Besides, wolves are awake," he said, punching his chest like a Tarzan, referring to the wolves in the pack. I looked more closely at his face and smiled. He was so wasted.

Jacob laughed at his friend. "Shut up, idiot. Paying a tribute, my ass," Jacob snickered, shaking his head and sitting on our blanket. I sat between his legs, his arms wrapped around me. I felt his lips on the back of my neck and I shivered.

Shit. I was losing it again.

He loved me. Jacob loved me.

And I wanted him to touch me more. I could feel a tingling between my legs every time we made out. I had talked to Claire a few times about sex, but she was mainly the one who contributed any relevant information to the conversation. So, I knew what it meant, my excitement and the sudden hunger I couldn't place.

Did I want to have sex with Jacob?

…yes, I did. Eventually.

Was I ready to explain my scars?

No, I wasn't. I was too afraid of his rejection. So afraid.

I'd been thinking the other day. How could I explain the scars to Jake? There were just too many of them to pretend they were something else. Some of them were faded, but some of them were still fresh. The new ones. Maybe it would have been different for me had I stopped, easier to explain. But I was still hiding a knife and razor blades in my room, wrapped in an old cloth, hidden under the mattress. Sue, the bitch of all bitches, didn't search there.

I wasn't able to stop.

Seth changed the melody, so Embry would shut up. In response, Embry threw his shoe at him. "You're such a jerk, Seth Clearwater. Fucking jerk," he whined drunkenly, but sat down on the nearby rock. Seth laughed heartily, along with Sam and Emily. Quil and Claire were lost in each other's gaze.

I was watching Seth for a little while and realized that there was something missing. Leah wasn't here. She used to play the guitar along with Seth. They were a great team, singing, playing their guitars, making us all shut up with their improvisations and unique voices tinted with husky, coarse timbres. I loved music so much and theirs was just spectacular. They were so talented.

Now she was gone, because of Emily. All hard feelings within the group had subsided, but it had been quite the drama.

Emily had visited Leah and Seth last Christmas. She was their cousin from the Makah reservation located several miles northwards. There had been an instant attraction between Sam and Emily. Leah noticed, but tried to ignore it at first. We were quite fond of each other, Leah and me. Before Claire joined us, she had been the only girl in the group. When she had told me the first time, she thought Sam was cheating on her with Emily, I hadn't wanted to believe it.

But when Sam had broken up with her two months after Emily's arrival in La Push, her suspicion had been proven to be correct. Reluctantly, he had admitted cheating. Leah's eyes were never the same anymore, and I started to secretly hate both, Sam and Emily. Who would do such a thing? I mean… If he didn't love Leah anymore, couldn't he break up with her first and then pursue his next love interest? And what about Emily? Hadn't she held at least a bit of respect towards her cousin? Leah had always spoken so nicely about her. The pain reflected in her face, the tears she shed, clinging to my shoulder… I had felt her pain immeasurably.

I never showed my disapproval, though. Sam and Emily were obviously in love. Sickly in love, as Embry had said one day. It was strange for all of us at first - Leah being replaced by her cousin. But apart from Seth, the guys and Claire got over it fairly quickly. It was Sam's choice, and they respected it, though we all missed Leah who who had taken took off after graduation and gone to college in Seattle. We hadn't seen her since last June.

We sat around the bonfire for a while longer, drinking some more, listening to Seth's beautiful arrangements of popular songs, occasionally throwing something at Embry who either started howling again or said something awfully stupid. He had set a precedent earlier, after all, so there was some throwing involved all night. He eventually drifted off to sleep, curling himself into a ball on the ground covered with wet sand. I was looked at him for a while, not sure if he was asleep or not, but aware of the sudden change in the direction of the of wind and the lowered temperature. He must have been cold.

"Jake, let's wake Embry up, so we can drive him home," I said quietly. "It's really late." Seth wasn't playing anything specific now; the tunes were vague, quiet and not anything easily identifiable. I tried to untangle myself out of Jake's embrace, but his embrace tightened around me.

"Let's not go just yet," he whispered in my ear, attacking my neck with kisses.

I felt goosebumps rise where his lips made contact with my flesh. "We have to go, Jake," I giggled when he started to nibble on my skin.

He groaned. "Yeah, I know. Hurry, then, and wake up that moron, so I don't have to throw something at him again."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Embry was a lunatic sometimes, but we all loved him. He was the crazy one, had silly ideas and proclaimed himself the alpha – the leader - of the pack.

Well, if there was any alpha I doubted it would be Embry.

But we let him joke around and I loved how relaxed he was around people, how comfortable with himself he seemed to be, how people accepted him for who he was, even though he could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. He served as a constant target of snarky remarks and stupid jokes. I didn't understand exactly why, but I envied him in a way. I envied him his freedom to be himself.

"Hey, Em, wake up, buddy, we're going home," I said, poking his shoulder.

He snored.

I laughed. "Come on, Em, you must be terribly cold. We're taking you home, you don't have to walk."

He turned on his back and smiled at me drunkenly. "Hello, beautiful. Wanna join me?"

Before I could reply, an empty can of coke hit his head with a loud sound. It sounded pretty painful. I looked over my shoulder and saw Jacob grinning at us.

Idiot. Sometimes he could be really rude.

"You had better stop harassing my woman who has the mercy to wake you up like the pussy you are," said Jacob. "Because I could've just keep throwing trash at you, until you woke up, ohhh mighty alpha."

The others who were watching the exchange laughed and Embry just chuckled stupidly. Did he even understand? I helped him to stand up; he had drunk a lot tonight.

Sam caught him when he became dizzy from the sudden change in position and I was grateful for his prompt intervention. Otherwise, he would've crushed me.

Seth and Jacob quenched the fire and pulled out their flashlights, and we found our way home. Seth, Quil and Claire had a car in the parking lot near the beach, but Jake's car was at his place. It wasn't far away from the beach, so Sam and Emily accompanied us, Sam supporting a drunken Embry. He loaded him in Jake's Rabbit and without a further ado left as well. Embry's house was located in a remote part of the rez, and because he didn't drive much, most of the time one of us ended up driving him home.

"You know I'm doing this shit for you," said Jacob, his voice only slightly touched by alcohol.

Yes, I knew. He shouldn't be driving at all.

"What shit?"

"Taking care of this mongrel. If it had been up to me, I would've left him there."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Jake. No, you wouldn't have."

"Well, I would have definitely not offered to take care of him."

"Watch the road, Jake," I reminded him. "But, anyway, thanks."

Even in the dark, I could see his white teeth as he snickered smugly, just the way I knew he would. "You owe me, woman."

I shifted uncomfortably at the name he used for me for the second time tonight. I wouldn't have minded really, but the way he said it, the _possessiveness_ in his voice, made me feel tense. For some reason, I didn't like it.

However, on the other hand, what did I know? Maybe that was the way relationships worked.

Embry, half-awake and half-lost, managed to get out of the car safely. He promised to be quiet and not to wake up his Mom. The fact that it was just the two of them made it much easier for him to get crazy when alcohol was involved.

"So," started Jacob when we were on our way to Forks. "I was thinking about where we are going to attend college. I mean… we can go anywhere, really, but I don't want to be too far away from home and I bet Charlie doesn't want to spend a lot of money on your tuition as well, so I was thinking that University of Washington would be a great option. For both of us. It is close to home and you can make use of your ridiculously good grades," said Jacob, snorting at the end.

Wait… What?

"Seattle's cool. I like it there. They have a good engineering program for me, and I bet you could find an area of study for yourself as well. You're good at everything. You read a lot, so I was thinking… English, maybe?"

Oh, oh, oh.

Slow down there.

University of Washington.

So… wrong.

"So, what do you say? I think I planned it perfectly. Rachel's graduating this year, and she said she can pass her apartment on to us, because she wants to go to Hawaii, to live with Rebecca. I've mentioned it to you, haven't I?"

Yes, he did. But… what?

"Bella? You here?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, sorry."

"So, what do you think?"

"I don't know, Jake. I haven't thought about college yet," I lied.

"Come on, Bells. There is nothing to think about," he said dismissively. "You want to be with me, don't you?"

"'course I do."

"So? I don't see a problem. Even Leah's in Seattle. I mentioned it to Charlie the other day, and he agreed. He wants to keep an eye on you. He trusts me," said Jacob, his voice full of self-satisfaction and conceit.

 _Shit._

 _Fuck._

I didn't say anything. I was sitting in the passenger seat, struck and immobile. Physically as well as mentally.

This was so wrong.

Jake didn't say anything else, and I was glad. The dread and repulsion flew through me like a lightning bolt. After a long time, I felt the walls of my throat constrict in a familiar movement and found it difficult to swallow air.

 _Inhale. Exhale._

 _Breathe, Bella._

The rest of the ride felt like an eternity. It was only a short feeling of horror and discomfort that I had felt upon his words, but it was the fear that had settled somewhere deep in my bones that had caused me to panic.

"See you tomorrow, Bells?" he asked when he pulled the car in front of Charlie's house.

"Yep," I stammered, my voice grainy.

He leaned in to kiss me and it was the first time I didn't _want_ to feel his warm lips on mine. He had frightened me.

I didn't stop him, although I didn't return the kiss with the amount of enthusiasm he probably expected.

I pulled away, and I saw that he was frowning. "Everything okay?"

"Sure," I managed to say. "I'm just… tired." That wasn't a lie.

"Okay, then. Sweet dreams."

It was rude of me and I shouldn't have done it, but I fled from the car without a look back at him or a single response.

 _I am a terrible girlfriend. Why is he with me?_

The house was quiet and dark. Charlie and Sue were already asleep. Quietly, I hurried up to my room, locked it and picked up the heavy mattress in a in quickly learned movements. There, in the top left corner of the bed base, were hidden my large black file folders where I kept my recent paintings and blood covered cloth with the knife and razors. I took the folders out.

Slowly, I opened each folder, taking out paintings one by one, each covered with archival paper and loose plastic cover preventing dirt and dust from getting onto them. It was quite a challenge, to store easily susceptible oil paintings safely, since I couldn't really afford any professional storage space for them, so this had to do. The watercolor ones were easier to store, but I stored them just the way I did the oil ones. They were too precious for me to risk anything happening to them.

I laid out all fifteen pictures on the bed, looking at them critically. I saw every step I'd made, every stroke of the brush, every mixture of color I had had to come up with in order to get that one shade I'd wanted. Behind every painting I saw an emotion, an idea, the thoughts I'd thought when I had been painting it, the frustration when I'd messed up and the happiness when I had finally finished. I knew they were far from perfect, but I was proud of them, nevertheless. Never in my life had I painted with more determination and soul. They were all so personal, but different.

Very quickly, the fear I had felt earlier subsided and cornered itself into the back of my head, replaced by a sudden feeling of contentment and excitement. My portfolio. Those paintings were my ticket to making my dream come true.

I reached into one of the folders and there, on the very bottom, was a thin file of papers regarding my application to The Art Institute of Chicago together with scholarship information. That scholarship meant everything to me. It was the only way for me to escape, to get out from this messy place and to begin again. I hoped that maybe, maybe if I was accepted and offered a scholarship, Dad would get over his animosity towards my desire to be an artist and would support me. I would show him that I was good enough. That I was good enough for this, and that I _had_ talent and that what I did made sense. I hoped that the new beginning would bring me more peace, and fewer nightmares and help me to stop hurting myself.

I _really_ wanted to stop.

Longingly, with a picture of myself in Chicago in my head, I smiled. I imagined being in a place where I would be encouraged. Where I would thrive and would get better at what I was doing, and where I would meet people _like me._

The shot of electricity ran down my spine and I shivered, because I knew this was very, very right.

I couldn't wait to send in my application.

But then I remembered… _University of Washington._ How could I even think about UW? English? Never. I might have not known who I was, but I knew who I wasn't. And thatis definitely _wasn't_ me. So mundane. So… not exciting. So… boring. But if I _didn't_ get the scholarship… well, what other choice did I have?

The doubts started to penetrate my mind for the millionth time. _Maybe I shouldn't do this. Hundreds of students apply for scholarships every year, many of them better than me, many of them with a professional training, supported by their families. Honestly, what were my chances? I am awful at this. What am I thinking?_

 _Stop dreaming, Bella._

 _Get realistic._

With a painful twinge in my chest, I put all the paintings back in their place, angry for even allowing myself to hope that there was a better life for me, the one I'd dreamed for myself, the one where I would be free and could breathe without constriction.

Stupid Bella.

I lifted the mattress again, shoved the folder onto the bed base more forcefully than I really intended and reached aggressively for the cloth covered in blood stains, feeling familiar shapes in my hand.

 _Go away. Go away. It'll go away._

I switched the light on my lamp on and quickly changed into my PJs with nothing but blood on my mind. In those moments, I never felt more disgusted and relieved at the same time. Disgusted for what I was doing, relieved for the upcoming release. And when I thought of that liberation - albeit short-lived – I was not able to stop.

 _It will go away._

In practiced movements, I unwrapped the blades and reached into the drawer of my bed table for thick paper napkins, Band-Aids and antibiotic cream. I lifted my old t-shirt up, just enough for me to see the newest scars. It must have been six days since I last cut myself. I squeezed a little bit of cream into my hands and ran them over the scars that were awfully itchy until they healed properly. I always tried not to pay attention to how my stomach looked, but it was difficult to overlook the amount of both large and small and bigger lines scattered all over my belly. Some of them white and protruding, the sign of deep cuts. Some of them were pinkish and some of them were still more reddish, itching upon my touch.

Three and a half years of cutting had definitely left its mark on my body.

My abdomen looked ghastly and repulsive. If I didn't have to, I wouldn't touch it for any other reason than to put cream on the scars, wash it or cut it. It was ugly and downright sickening.

I was the ugliest person ever.

Eager to escape those thoughts, I reached for my _favorite_ knife. It's been some time since I had used a knife. I preferred razors, they were more hygienic, but the knife's blade offered a particularly resonant experience. And that was exactly what I needed tonight.

There was nothing in my head, just the blade and an upcoming feeling of freedom. I lowered my pants just enough to reveal my bony hips. I wanted pain, and I wanted a lot of it. Without a second thought I put the old cloth beneath me and plunged the knife deep into the thin cream-white skin near my right hipbone, squeaking in sharp unfamiliar pain. Impulsively, I covered my mouth with my other hand, eying blood running crazily from the cut. Breathing heavily, ignoring the smell, I made another cut anticipating this new kind of itching pain. Another cut. And another. Expecting the very well-known feeling of emancipation, I felt only throbbing pain in my lower abdomen. My sight suddenly covered in a red haze, even tears started to well in my eyes. The hand clutching the knife started to shake, but I felt like I was in a heavy trance, not being able to stop. It was _so_ familiar, but _so_ new. Another cut. And another. Left hand still on my mouth, muting my sobs and involuntary yelps.

 _Why it isn't working?_

 _Why do I still feel miserable?_

 _Why do I feel even worse?_

 _It is supposed to help! To make it all go away!_

I saw blood everywhere, but it wasn't something I wasn't already used to. I felt my whole body shaking, but I was desperate for release. Swallowing sobs and hitched inhales, I cut even deeper, in the way I had never before, and the pain struck so hard that a temporary blackness took over my sight.

"Shit," I breathed, squeezing my eyes together. "Fuck!"

But crazily enough… I. Wasn't. Able. To. Stop.

Maybe it was the hipbone that didn't work.

When I gathered that last bit of strength and focus I had in my body and mind, my eyes flickered on my wrists.

 _Just one last deep cut._

 _Come on, Bella. You can make it go away._

 _Just one. And it'll be gone._

Suddenly, a wave of misery and nausea washed through me. "No, no, no," I was shaking my head, sobbing, feeling cold and damp thick liquid under my hips, my body pulsating with adrenaline and pain, shaking almost uncontrollably.

This was so bad, so wrong. The pain was still in my chest. I didn't want to do this. Not really.

But, yes. I did.

I needed it.

I needed to show everyone how ugly and selfish I was. Bad daughter, bad friend, bad girlfriend. Terrible painter. Untalented.

"No," I whispered in a sob.

 _Yes._

 _Cut yourself, Bella._

"No."

 _Yes. Cut your wrist. Show them how unworthy you are. Show them what you're doing to yourself and make the pain go away._

 _You can make it go away. You did so many times before. Forget your belly, your thighs… They won't ever see it. Show them._

And desperate for the feeling I had grown addicted to, I cut my left wrist. Feeling pain even in the toes on my feet, I registered a new source of burn.

But no, even wrist didn't work.

Again, sudden guilt possessed me.

I felt bad.

Miserable.

Sick of myself. Repulsed.

But I _couldn't_ stop.

And I couldn't breathe.

"No…!"

I cut again. And again. I cut my thighs, my belly, and my other hipbone. Blood rushed from all of the cuts and I didn't even bother to silence my heavy sobs and squeals anymore. Buried in physical pain, I couldn't lose that one in my chest.

 _Just cut, Bella._

 _It_ ' _ll go away._

 _It'll soon go away._

And eventually it did. What followed afterwards, I didn't remember.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The first thing I heard was a high-pitched sound that repeated itself at a regular interval.

 _Peep. Peep. Peep. Peep._

Then, I smelled the repulsing odor of disinfectant, antiseptic and generic scent of laundry. I felt I had something in my nostrils. I couldn't feel my body properly, but my head felt like it was removed from its place, heavy and glued to the bed where I was lying.

Bed. Lying.

The smell. The peeping sound.

My eyes shot open and closed right away, blinded by a strong white light. I blinked several times, and I felt their puffiness and swollenness. When they got used to unnatural brightness in the room, I looked around.

I was in the hospital.

I was in the fucking hospital.

And before I was able to realize to full extent what had happened, the door opened and a man in a white coat entered the room.

White coat. I shivered and felt fear; guilt and dread possessed my consciousness. My body tensed as in anticipation of attack.

I expected him to violate my personal space, but he stopped at the heel of the bed, a wary look on his face.

"Bella," he said, his brows furrowed. His eyes were blue as the sky, a clear shade of light blue, but not icy and cold. Despite the natural chilliness of the color, his eyes radiated warmth.

And it felt like they saw right through me.

Because, after all, he knew.

Suddenly, I felt small and vulnerable, naked in front of a stranger who must have seen it all. All my scars. All my cuts.

I looked away.

"My name is Dr. Carlisle Cullen," he introduced himself politely, his voice calm and soothing.

He continued. "I know it must be very confusing for you to wake up here. Do you know what happened?"

Unwilling, I nodded. But then I realized that I didn't really know. I didn't remember. So, I shook my head, maybe a little bit too vehemently.

"Bella," he started again, his voice still unnaturally soft and tender. "You were found by your father in your bed, unconscious; loosing a lot of blood. My colleagues in Forks were successful in stopping the bleeding, disinfected and stitched your cuts, but you urgently needed a blood transfusion. They had a little bit of a problem since your blood type is so rare. They managed to keep you stabilized with that little amount they had, but you were immediately transported to Port Angeles, where they could continue with the transfusion and look more closely at your left wrist. Bella, do you remember what happened in Forks?"

What was he talking about?

My confused expression must have told him that I didn't. He sighed. "I thought so. After few hours you woke up, but you were delirious, hallucinating. You screamed and cried, fought violently with the personnel, breaking your stitches open. They had to heavily sedate you."

I felt my stomach in my throat.

 _Breathe. Inhale. Exhale._

I dared to look at his face. He was so calm.

"In Port Angeles they looked closer at your injuries, especially the deep cuts that might have penetrated too deep into your skin. They didn't like what they found, and you were transported again, to Seattle, where we could perform necessary surgery. You see, Bella, the skin on the wrist is very delicate and all of the key nerves, veins, ligaments and tendons are much closer to the surface of the skin then the ones on the thighs, abdomen or hips."

I was going to be sick, slowly realizing the extent of my irresponsible conduct.

"The cuts on your right wrist were not deep enough to reach any of those tissues, particularly because the cuts were located higher, more on the forearm than the wrist itself. However, your left wrist wasn't that lucky."

I quickly looked down at my body for the first time, expecting the worst – no left hand. But when I spotted it exactly where it should be, I exhaled with relief. It was wrapped tightly in a thick bandage, my fingers and hand as well, tightly put together, restricting any movement.

Dr. Cullen chuckled. "No, we didn't have to amputate your hand, Bella. But the injury you inflicted upon yourself was no less serious." He moved closer to me very slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Do you feel it?"

 _What?_ I was going to ask when I noticed he was squeezing the palm of my hand.

I couldn't feel _a shit_.

I felt horror rising in my chest and I started breathing shallowly, my throat burning.

I raised my eyes in question to look at the doctor.

He understood. "Don't worry, Bella, in time it's going to be okay. We did our best in repairing the damaged tissue. You were lucky, though. A few centimeters deeper and you could've lost the feeling in your hand and fingers for good." His voice was serious and deep, but not judging or scolding.

"You shouldn't move your left wrist or fingers very much. It needs a proper time to heal, but I am fairly certain it will function just as it did before."

Finally, I managed to get some words out of my mouth. I couldn't avoid harshness in my voice. "Fairly certain?"

He chuckled again. Why was he doing that? Wasn't I the one who cut herself? Wasn't he supposed to be the one that was angry with me, accusing me of the most horrid deed ever, repulsed by how terrible a person I am? Wasn't he supposed to look down on me for what I was doing to myself?

"We can never be one hundred percent sure with this kind of injury. But if we voluntary limit the mobility as much as we can and allow the cut time to heal, I can't see any reason, why your hand and fingers shouldn't work as well as before."

I nodded and sighed. A Hheavy weight of guilt sank deep into me and I fought the tears fervently from falling over the edge.

 _What have I done?_

"Bella?" asked Dr. Cullen, his voice even softer.

"Hm?"

He heard him sigh. "I have to ask you some questions that might feel uncomfortable, even personal. I would like you to answer as much as you can, but if you feel at any point that it is too much, you don't have to, okay? And I would like to remind you that anything said in this room stays between you and me."

He sat down on the chair beside the bed and when I was sure I suppressed the water welling in my eyes, I looked at his pretty face. His almost white hair made him look angelic. His face was ridiculously symmetrical, and I wondered what planet he had come from. He looked… surreal. Like he had stepped down from one of my paintings. He must have been in his forties, or maybe even late thirties. It was hard to tell.

Dr. Angelic.

My fingers itched in need of a pencil. It would be a pleasure to draw his face. Artistic enjoyment.

 _Would he pose for me?_

 _Calm down, Bella._

"Bella," he started, his voice gentle but careful. "Is it true you inflicted cutting injuries upon your body five days ago with the knife your father found in your bed?"

I felt my chest tighten. Why did he ask that shit? He knew I did.

I nodded.

"Are the scars on your body, predominantly the ones on your right thigh and upper abdomen, the result of previous self-harm?"

I swallowed, sensing contractions in my throat. Again, I nodded.

"For how long have you been cutting yourself?"

I inhaled deeply, but still felt like suffocating.

When I didn't answer, he continued in the same tone, no hint of anger or impatience was present in his voice. "Did begin cutting yourself four years ago?"

Roughly. I nodded. How he knew it I didn't have a fucking clue.

"Have you ever suffered from a serious infection after cutting? Have you ever had a fever or swelling around your cuts?"

I nodded. "But no fever," I added quickly, in a low voice. Sometimes my skin reddened around fresh cuts. But I knew how to handle that.

He took a deep breath and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. "Have you ever been the victim of physical abuse?"

Shock struck me for a second, but I vigorously shook my head.

This seemed to lessen the tension on his face. "Have you ever been the victim of emotional abuse?"

I shook my head again. I had no idea what that meant, but if anyone was a victim, it was my Dad. And Jacob. And even Sue. How could I drag them into this shit of mine? How could I let it go so far? I wouldn't be surprised if he kicked me out of the house. I was an adult now, after all.

"Do you get along with your father and his partner?"

I nodded. Dad was okay, it was Sue who sometimes got on my nerves with her consistent bitching, but I never let her know how I felt about her.

"Bella," he started, now his voice was very cagy and alert. "Did you try to commit suicide?"

Was I?

I shook my head.

Did he believe me?

He exhaled deeply, writing my answer down and smiled at me.

Yes, he did.

"Okay, sweetheart. That was all I needed to know. But expect some other people to come to talk to you some more."

Like I needed anyone else to know about this shit. I felt fear and distrust, unwillingness to become open and vulnerable, exposing myself in front of strangers, in shame of what I had done.

Involuntary, I whined.

He smiled. "Nobody wants to hurt you, Bella. We just want to understand. Self-harm and self-abuse in any way is a very serious misconduct against oneself. We want to help you in any way we can. I know it must be hard, but you can trust us."

Trust white coats?

Well, Dr. Angelic was nice. His tone of voice reminded me of Mom's. But I couldn't imagine anyone else could be even remotely as pleasant as him.

And to talk about what I had been doing for the last three and a half years? No, thank you. The fact I answered Dr. Angelic's questions was heavily influenced by his allure and amiable face. But he was still a doctor.

A fucking doctor.

I frowned at him. Suddenly, I wanted him to go away.

"Your father is in the waiting room, Bella. I wanted to talk to you in private before I allowed anybody to see you. Do you want me to let him in?" he asked, frowning, as if he hoped I wouldn't want to talk to him.

"Well, you can't keep him out there forever," I sighed.

He nodded. "No." And after three seconds of silence, he added, "Are you sure there is nothing else you want to talk about?"

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa. You might have the most attractive face I've ever seen, but I have my boundaries._

 _Fucking doctor._

"No."

He smiled tensely. "Well, if you need anything, just call the nurse and she will fetch me. I'll come and check on you later."

And gone he was. Now I had much bigger challenge to face.

Charlie.

In those three minutes I was alone, my brain buzzed with questions and potential scenarios. What would I do if Charlie kicked me out? Where was I going to go? The Black's? No way, Jacob would dump me the moment he found out. He had probably broken up with me already, even without my presence. I mean… I bet he didn't want to look at me in the face anymore. Why would he want such a crazy girl? Ugly and scarred? Maybe I could stay with Seth until I graduated and found a job. I would never go to college, let alone go to Chicago. Tears filled my eyes again at the thought of my dream school. It had never been so close and so far away at once.

The door opened with a loud noise and my Dad marched into my room with face red with fury.

I felt my body trembling, my breath unsteady. I was looking into his eyes, my eyes, but he seemed to be at a loss for words.

Finally, he inhaled. "What the hell did you think, Isabella Swan?!" His tone was strict and severe. Almost callous.

I was paralyzed.

"What the fuck, Bella?! I thought I had a nightmare when I found you covered in fucking blood! You wanted to die? To kill yourself? Are you completely out of your mind? Like I need any of it! Sue almost had a heart attack when she saw you. You know she has a weak heart! Do you ever think about anyone beside yourself?"

Now, I couldn't stop tears from falling down my cheeks. The staggering contrast between Dr. Cullen and my Dad was mind-blowing.

But he was so right. I _was_ selfish.

"The doctor told me you've been doing this thing to yourself for four years. Four fucking years!" He was shaking his head, pacing the room from one side to the other. "Your fucking nightmares, those shitty drawings of yours and now this! You had better stop this emo behavior, Bella, or I'll be forced to send you to a mental hospital!"

Oh. There it was.

 _No. No. No. No._

I was shaking as much as if I was somewhere naked in Alaska.

"Daddy, please, no," I begged.

"No? Now you're begging me? Damn it, Bella," he said, becoming a little calmer, but the fierceness in his eyes didn't disappear. "I have every reason to send you to those shrinks so you can get your shit together, for god's sakes!"

"No, Daddy, I promise, I won't do anything like that again, I promise!" I begged again, unconsciously lifting my bandaged hands in a plea in his direction.

"How can I be sure? How can I be sure you won't do it again?"

"I'll do anything to stay with you, Dad, please!"

"Stop crying, Bella!" he said, but as if on the purpose, my uncontrollable sobs and hitched breaths burst in another wave.

He ran his hand over his face. "Dr. Cullen told me he saved your hand and you had better be grateful, because I was so pissed when they told me they were transporting you to Seattle. You know I have to work as well! Who's gonna pay for the house? You?" He started again, and I felt like the biggest failure walking on the earth. It would have been better had I died.

Much, much better.

"I-I'm so-so sorry-y."

"You better be."

I gathered the last drops of bravery left in my quivering body. "What can I do, Daddy? What can I do so you'll forgive me?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Dr. Cullen wants you to have a psychiatrist and we had better find one. No arguments! Your head is obviously sick, and I should've noticed sooner, the moment you started drawing those crazy dragons. Sue was right, after all. There is something wrong with you."

I was clenching my jaw so tight I felt my teeth cracking. I held the sobs in my body, I held all pain, my crumbling chest, my burning throat, and I held everything tightly inside of myself, even the tears. I felt like I wasn't allowed to show any of those things anymore. Like I wasn't allowed to even acknowledge them.

Because there _was_ something wrong with me.

"One more night," he said. "One more night and we're out of here. I'll talk to your doctors and see what they want me to do with you. But I'm not staying here any longer. I have had just about enough of this. I'll take you home, but if there is one," he lifted his finger in a warning gesture, "one attempt at cutting yourself again, you're done. Understood?"

I nodded, voiceless.

And just like Dr. Angelic, he was gone.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It was the longest and the most embarrassing day of my entire life. Every fifteen minutes a nurse came into my room to check on me. She never said why, but it wasn't hard to guess. She was checking to see if I was hurting myself. Like I would try anything here. I was so paralyzed by fear and shame I could barely move. I was just staring at the ceiling, sometimes closing my eyes, and imagining Dr. Angelic's calming face, how would I draw it, maybe even paint it, what mix of blues would I use to replicate the color of his eyes, and how I would draw those little lines around his mouth when he smiled…

Later, a couple of other white coats made their appearance asking me questions that made my body cringe and my mind scream. Psychiatrists. The pressure they created was making me even more reluctant to say anything than I already was. They all watched me like I was something to observe, writing down my every facial expression and body movement. Their eyes were not the ones of Dr. Angelic. They were not warm, but cold and impersonal, constantly judging me. Questions were asked and I had to answer some of them. When did I cut myself, with what, how often, what was the pattern, how I'd been hiding the evidence…? There was one particular doctor, and I couldn't remember his name, but the way he asked his questions, with such a precision and insistence, I started to cry and even scream when he repeated them even when I refused to say any thing. They had to make me sleep and the next thing I saw when I woke up was the face of Dr. Angelic and he had never been more beautiful. I found it tremendously difficult to move my body. I thought about a movement and it took me good five seconds, until my brain registered the impulse.

In other words, I felt like I was high. High like that one time, when Jacob had to carry me to my bedroom, because I said I couldn't walk up the stairs because they were dancing and they were not my friends.

I never got high with the pack again.

But now, when I saw Dr. Angelic's face, I felt an involuntary smile plastered on my lips. "Hi."

He chuckled. "Hi, Bella. I apologize for waking you up."

"You did this?" I heard my voice slurry and unusually deep.

"Yes, I did. I had to talk to you before I finished my shift. Don't worry; I'll make you go back to sleep just as easily."

"Your face is so white," I mumbled. "I mean, very beautiful."

He shifted uncomfortably. "How do you feel, Bella?"

"Like I'm high."

He chuckled again. "Well, that was a stupid question. Yes, pretty much you are." And then he realized something. "Have you ever been… high?"

Oh, no. I had to shake my head. _You were not supposed to get Jake into trouble_. "No."

Did he believe me? It didn't look like he did. "Your dad wants to take you home tomorrow even though Dr. Varner and I have advised against it. It is not really my area of expertise, though. I am merely in charge of your physical health but… I am worried. Physically, you are perfectly fine to be discharged. But mentally…"

He wanted to keep me here?

 _Oh, no!_

And I wanted to make my opinion known, but it sounded like a very poor attempt at being resolute. "I am… not. I mean… I am not staying here. I won't do it again, I promised Dad. I need to go to college."

He sighed, his face marred by a deep frown. "Well, you are an adult, Bella. At the end of the day, it all depends on you."

"I know."

"Did Dr. Varner make you feel uncomfortable?"

"He asked tough questions. But it was painful. He pressed me too much."

"And you don't like to be pressed," he concluded.

I shook my head, and it felt as if it weighed two hundred pounds, I swear. It was so difficult to move it.

"I know. Dr. Varner's… approach might come across as a little fierce sometimes."

I shrugged. Fierce? He sunk a knife into every painful place in my chest. I had felt cornered.

"Well, look, sweetheart, you have to get the cutting under control and you have to be under the care of get a psychiatrist, maybe even a psychologist so you can work with them on your… so you can talk to them. It will help, trust me. I have already told this to your Dad. But it doesn't mean that you have to settle for the first team of specialists you find. In the mental health field, patients and doctors… they have to click. They have to trust each other in order for it to work. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded laboriously. "I clicked with you."

 _Why am I saying those things?_

He smiled. "Yeah. I clicked with you, too. But I am neither of those things. I don't know how to help you."

I lifted my left bandaged hand with difficulty. "You did help me."

"I know," he smiled. "And I will want to see you in a few weeks to check on your hand."

I shrugged.

"Dr. Varner told me to tell you that it might be difficult at first. Not to cut yourself. But, Bella, you are a strong girl. You can do it," he smiled.

So beautiful.

"You're so beautiful," I said again.

 _Get a grip, Bella, for god's sakes!_

"Yeah, well, just focus on other things," I didn't know now if he ignored me and continued with his speech or if he said it in relation to him being beautiful. Because, dude, it was fucking hard not to focus on his heavenly face and the warmth that emanated from his blue irises. "Your Dad mentioned that you have a boyfriend and a lot of friends at school. Don't be afraid to talk to them about it. If you trust them. Just… talk, okay?"

I shrugged again. Like I could. "May I draw your face?" I asked instead. This question burned in the back of my head.

He laughed, but then sighed. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your Dad. Is everything alright?"

He wasn't so beautiful anymore. "Yes."

He didn't answer, and I looked away so I didn't see his reaction. After a while he approached me with a syringe in his hands and before I was able to process critically what that meant, I felt fear overtaking me. It took my body some time before it cringed and before my face could create an expression relating to those feelings.

"Don't worry, it'll make you sleep all night and eventually, the sedation will go away naturally. Your mind must must be jumbled. I won't be able to see you tomorrow, but I hope that when I see you in a few weeks, you'll tell me about your progress. Okay?"

I nodded and relaxed a little.

White fucking coat.

He injected the drug into the IV in my right arm. Then, he squeezed my hand compassionately and smiled. "You're no different from any of us, Bella. We all have our… baggage, but we need to have people in our lives who we can talk to about those things. I wish all of us had such people in their lives, but sometimes they do not. And there is no shame whatsoever in talking to someone who is trained specifically for such cases."

I was lost in his soft voice and gentle eyes, feeling the drug taking effect.

"It will be hard, sweetheart. To talk is to acknowledge – truth, pain, weakness. But to talk is also to let go. And I promise, if you allow those things to heal, it _will_ get better. The pain _will go away."_

I didn't know if he really said those words or if it was just the result of my imagination. He smiled at me for the last time and very soon, darkness possessed me once again.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Late afternoon, the next day, we arrived in Forks, that struggling, dying little town. I'd been wondering if we could stay in Seattle one more night, maybe see a few things, but when I saw Charlie's resolution to get home as soon as possible, I didn't say anything.

In the hospital Dr. Varner and some other doctor instead of Dr. Angelic performed my physical and mental examinations. He gave me a prescription and a list of psychiatrists working in the area around Forks. Then they'd sent me out with a nurse, to wait for Dad, because they wanted to talk to him without me in the room.

Since I'd woken up in the hospital, the feelings of shame, guilt and embarrassment hadn'tsubsided. Quite the contrary, with each passing hour, each of Charlie's glances, and the knowing that now I had to face the world that _knew,_ the poisonous cocktail of emotions in my veins made me feel even more sick than I already felt. But on the other hand, I was happy to go home and get away from that smelly, whitey place full of white coats. I had just had enough of them.

However, when I saw a familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the house, I wanted to go back.

 _No, no, no, no, no!_

My already ragged breathing quickened and even if Charlie saw the change of expression on my face when I noticed Jake's Rabbit, he ignored me.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

Had I forgotten to mention that he wasn't speaking to me?

My voice was shaking. "What is Jake doing here?"

"How do I know? He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"

 _Not for long._

With my heart in my throat, we entered the house. I was cold and shaking, feeling subtle pulsating in my stitched cuts, hugging myself as a form of self-preservation. I felt open and vulnerable, fragile and on the verge of breaking into a million little pieces.

They knew.

I followed Dad into the kitchen and my eyes fell on Jacob sitting behind the table, being unusually serious. He knew. His black eyes dilated when he met mine and he immediately stood up, taking up most of the space in Dad's little kitchen. I had forgotten how huge he was.

"You okay, Bella?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

 _Concern?_

Voicelessly, I nodded. Lost in his gaze I only noticed Sue when she threw something with a loud thud into the sink, eying me mercilessly. Without a word she passed me leaving the kitchen, as if my very presence was insulting to her.

 _Bitch,_ I thought. But she had a right to be angry, I guess. It was her house. And she knew too.

I suddenly felt a quiver running down my spine and a pair of black and brown eyes on me, eyes that knew. I tightened my arms around me and turned to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" I heard Charlie.

"To my room," I replied.

"Jake will go with you. You're not supposed to be left alone."

 _Fucking great._

I felt Jake's warmth behind me; his closeness was somewhat of a comfort. But I wasn't allowed to think like that. I already lost him. It didn't matter that he'd made me quite angry the last time we had talked, with all the college bullshit, because at the end of the day… it was Jacob. My Jacob. My best friend. The boy who had wanted to spend his time with me from the first day we had met, a virtual stranger.

We entered my room and the first thing I saw was my bed, stripped of the bedding, now completely bare. Even the sheet that covered the mattress was not in its place, which meant that… I quickly lifted the mattress.

The folders were gone.

My folders.

I swallowed hard.

"Bella?" Jacob's low voice startled me.

I turned to him and finally, _finally_ felt tears in my eyes.

They knew _everything._

My hands started shaking, and I knew what was going to come. The panic set in, my throat started burning and I wasn't able to breathe. I couldn't draw what I saw, I couldn't go and grab the razor from the bathroom;, I couldn't do any of those things that made me feel better. I was panicking. I was lost. I was…

The warmth enveloped me. Jake. He squeezed me tightly, and I buried my face in his chest, not quite understanding why he was comforting me. Releasing the tension of the last six days – most of which I had spent sedated – I realized I didn't know what to do next. Where to turn next. They hated me, they didn't want me here. They knew, and they didn't want me.

I started to push Jake away and his arms let me go. I looked at his face and saw wariness, and fear in his eyes. So unnatural for him, for his ever-present confidence and the allure of security and assurance.

"Bells, sorry, I-I… don't know what to do. Tell me how to help you, please. I was shit scared when Charlie called me, telling me that you were in the hospital. And then when I came there, I saw those cuts and your pale face and you looked like you were dead and I thought I was gonna get sick. You know, I thought I'd made you angry in the car with something, that it was my fault, but we had had such a good time that night and… shit!" he stopped, running his hand over his face. "Did I push you too far? You didn't want me to touch you because of the scars, right? I knew I was doing something wrong. Oh, god, and then you started screaming when you woke up and it was the worst thing I had ever seen, I swear! It was nothing like you. And the doctor told us you must have been cutting yourself for years! Christ, Bella, how could you do that? Weren't you happy? I mean, wasn't I making you happy? You have your Dad and Sue and me and the pack… and you always looked so content and happy and… fuck, Bella, I thought I was gonna… How could you do such a stupid thing? Were you trying to kill yourself? Didn't you think about the other people in your life? How this would affect them?" His voice was filled with so much confusion and fright, with fear and anxiety that it made me feel even worse if that was even possible.

I hurt them all. I _was_ terrible. I _was_ selfish. I _was_ not worthy of any of them.

I burst into another loud cry and Jake's arms tucked me to him again. "Christ, Bella, tell me what to do!"

"Why-y ar-re y-you h-here?"

"Why?"

I nodded, clutching his shirt, wetting it with my tears.

"Bella, what kind of stupid question is that?"

"I am _h-horrible and s-selfish_. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you are pretty stupid, and yes, I wondered for a while if I even knew who you were, but then I decided. You're mine," he said, the uncomfortable undertone of ownership in his voice. "You're my girl. Bella, I told you… I love you."

I looked up to him in confusion. "W-what?"

"I love you. So, suck it up. You're not getting rid of me."

The flicker of hope rose in my heart and I smiled through the tears. "I l-love you, too, Jake."

And with that, he calmed down a bit, a faint resemblance of that cocky grin settled on his lips, and he leaned down to kiss me. "Just tell me, Bella, what to do, okay?"

I nodded, though I didn't know to what. I had no idea what to do myself. My world was crumbling down, and I was rapidly losing the sense of who I was.

 _Saturday, April 12, 2003_

I tried to get into my room as quietly as possible. I told Jake to drop me off a few streets away from the one where I lived, that I wanted to take a walk after a long time in the car. He didn't find it suspicious, Olympia _was_ three hours away from Forks and when you had to do that ride every week, it could get kinda boring. We were driving there every Friday after school, and returning on Saturday.

"I thought I might hang out with you at home for a little bit," Jacob said when he pulled the Rabbit onto the side of the road.

My heart jumped. "No!" I said, maybe a little too eagerly. "No, Jake… I have a lot to do. I need to study." I didn't need him to be witness to the conversation with Charlie again. Besides, he was firmly on his side, so it didn't help a shit.

He laughed. I never knew if he could tell that I was lying. "Me too."

"So, then you need to go home as well."

"Whatever, Bells. See you tomorrow, I hope?"

I nodded and gave him a peck on the lips. "Can I stay overnight?" I assumed I wouldn't want to hang around Charlie more than necessary. If he didn't talk about my session today, he would certainly bring it up tomorrow. Jacob was my only safe harbor in this hole of shit.

His face lighted up. "Sure, babe."

"Don't get any ideas," I said playfully.

"Do I ever?"

I didn't comment on his response and the cocky grin that revealed beautifully white teeth. Wasn't he gorgeous? I loved him so much. Now, we were exploring our bodies, little by little. With what had happened in September, he had barely touched me for a few weeks. But I knew it was more because of how afraid he was of the whole situation than for my sake. He said he didn't want me to run from him screaming. I knew he said it as a joke, but there was some truth to it too, so it hurt a little, nevertheless.

Well, it was Jacob, after all.

"See you tomorrow," I said.

"See you tomorrow," he winked, and I rolled my eyes.

With my heart beating loudly in my chest, I was approached the staircase, knowing that Charlie would be in the living room with Sue. They were watching football. And just when I was fairly sure he hadn't heard me…

"Bella?!"

 _Crap! Shit! Fuck!_

"Yeah?"

"Come in here!"

I walked into the living room. As if on the cue, Sue got up and left. I was doing my best not to roll my eyes. It was so childish of her, bitch. I looked at Dad and felt my heart sink. He was angry, furious. Again. I knew he didn't love me anymore. After what I had done.

 _What am I doing to him?_

"Dad…?"

"Don't act like you don't know what you've done, Bella."

 _Don't cry, don't cry, Bella._

"Care to explain?" he continued.

"Dad, he was so pushy! And those pills he is making me to take… they are awful, I can't concentrate when I take them!" The thoughts of white coats flooded my head even though they weren't really wearing white coats. They assumed that I was being unstable, depressed and not able to go on with my life without pills. The way they were looking at me, impersonally, and as if they didn't want to have anything to do with me, the one who denied the fact that she had tried to kill herself. Like I was some troubled kid with a crazy mind. How was I supposed to trust them? Trust their fake smiles and assurances? They didn't even believe that it was an accident. That I hadn't wanted to kill myself. That I would never do such a thing!

"Are you even listening to yourself, Bella? Because I don't believe this bullshit anymore! We have tried seven different doctors! Seven! Is anyone ever going to be good enough for you?"

"Dad, they don't understand me! They don't know me! They expect to figure me out because they allegedly know how a human mind works, but they don't know anything about me! They don't want to know what is really going on. They are just giving me prescriptions with new drugs again and again, making assumptions and they are wrong!"

He sighed. We had had this conversation many times already. "Bella," he started. "I agreed when you asked me to change your first psychiatrist, because you didn't feel comfortable with her. And Dr. Cullen and Dr. Varner said that you must find someone that works for you. But now, I am starting to doubt your ability to cooperate, Bella, instead of their ability to do their job! This is just ridiculous! Jake must drive you six hours to and back from Olympia every fucking week! Do you ever think of the repercussions of what you did? You want me to buy you a fucking helicopter, so you can fly to whatever motherfucking city you choose to try next?"

"I don't want to try anything else! I am okay, Dad, don't you see? I don't need any of those stupid pills or psychiatrists! I haven't put a knife or razor to my skin for more than six months! Dad, please, please, don't make go there again, please! I'll do anything, anything! They don't understand me, please!"

"How am I supposed to believe it won't happen again?"

 _He doesn't trust me._

"It won't, Dad, I promise. Please!"

"I don't believe you, Bella," he was shaking his head.

I was crying, my breath hitching again. Fucking throat! "Dad…"

 _Inhale. Exhale._

He was looking at me for a few seconds and then he grabbed my left wrist to follow him to the kitchen. I cringed a little; the new-found tingling feeling in my hand was still surprising for me after months of not being able to feel anything. When I hissed involuntarily, he let it go, murmuring a little 'sorry'. I was still wearing the bandage Dr. Angelic had given me a month ago, religiously following his orders. No straining, no pulling, no necessary movements.

"Sit," he ordered when we were in the kitchen, taking an envelope into his hands. He put it in front of me.

"What is it?" I asked, but I didn't have to. I saw it myself. The black letters on white paper.

 _The Art Institute of Chicago._

I grabbed the already opened envelope, hating the feeling that it wasn't me who had gotten the news first. But the excitement and fear were too strong for me to pay attention to such a details. I saw my hands trembling crazily and when I finally managed to open the single letter with the final verdict, I swear, my heart skipped a beat.

 _Dear Miss Swan,_

 _Regarding your application for our undergraduate program at The Art Institute of Chicago, we are pleased to offer you a conditional place…_

Was it happening?

I read further.

… _and awarded a scholarship…._

Was it _fucking_ happening?

"Dad! Dad! Did you see this? They accepted me! They want me! They liked my work! Oh my god! I can't believe this is happening! I am going to Chicago! I am going to Chicago! You see, Dad? You didn't want to believe me, but they want me… they want me…" I would probably continue my breathless monologue full of joy, excitement and disbelief if I hadn't seen Charlie's expressionless face.

 _Oh no._

"I wouldn't get ahead of myself, if I were you, Bella." There was an unusual calmness to his voice suddenly.

 _Oh no._

I swallowed.

"Do you really expect me to let you go to Chicago alone?" he asked mockingly. "After what Dr. Banner told me happened in your yesterday's session?"

I swallowed again.

 _No, no, no._

He had never cared. Charlie had never cared much. Why now?

"You threw books at him, Bella, and stormed out of his office in the middle of the session! He said that you are unstable and even though you don't cut yourself anymore, you are a potential danger to yourself and those _around_ you."

"What?!" I couldn't believe what he was saying. Yes, I threw a few books at him. So far, he was the worst of them all. Well, maybe that dick Varner in Seattle was the worst, but this one was pretty awful as well. He obviously despised me and I got so afraid of what he might find out about me that I couldn't help myself. The rage just came out of nowhere. There was no one to sedate me. When I calmed down and my sudden fury subsided, I cried, hating myself, sitting on the bench in the park where I was supposed to meet Jake and then go to the hotel. When he asked what had happened, I just said I had had a difficult session. And because this whole thing was making him incredibly uncomfortable, he didn't ask more. Thankfully. He insisted on me having a professional help, though, and deep inside, I knew why. He would never admit it, but he wasn't able to handle me, my baggage. He had always been very careful around me at first, asking me what to do… I couldn't overlook his change in behavior when he was around me. I begged Charlie, even Sue, not to tell him about Chicago and my paintings. Fortunately, they listened to me. I don't know how he would take that. I loved him, and he wanted me. I couldn't afford to make him even more uncomfortable around me. What if he left me? What if he left me because of who I really was? Because of what I really had to deal with?

He ignored my question. "You can't possibly expect me to let stop you seeing a shrink, let alone letting you go to Chicago all alone."

I was shaking my head; tears were welling in my eyes again. "Dad, but I…"

"This is not a topic for discussion." Still, incredibly calm.

"Dad, I… I promise I won't do it again."

"I have heard that so many times, Bella."

"I never broke my promise!"

"You did in my book, keeping secrets about fucking art schools and scholarships."

"But…"

"Enough. Though… There is one option I can see working," he said finally, a sly smile on his lips.

So, would he let me go to Chicago after all?

"Okay. What do I have to do? What do I have to do to be able to go Chicago, Dad? I'll do anything."

He laughed. "Oh, Bella, do you really think you would be able to keep up with other students even if I let you go there? The chance of your being successful is slim and I don't even understand what they saw in those doodles you sent them. So, no, there is no way I am allowing you to go to Chicago. You need to do something worthwhile. Something that will provide a roof over your head."

 _I might die. Very soon._

His brown eyes, almost black under the shadows of his brows, were smiling.

"You can't force me not to go," I heard myself say, very resolutely.

"No, I can't. But there will be no support from me whatsoever. There is not much left from the money your grandmother left you and I doubt the scholarship covers _all_ of the expenses. You'll need new paints, brushes, a new easel… All that shit that is not particularly cheap. And you're gonna need that every year and I am not talking about other shit. You won't see a dime from me, Isabella. There will be no home to return to. _You will be alone."_

 _No, he isn't…_

 _If you go, Bella, he will leave you. He will give up on you if you go to Chicago._

I couldn't breathe. I was crying again.

"So, think about that, ok? And now for my offer… What if I told you that you don't have to see a psychiatrist ever again?"

My eyes shot to him. "What?"

"Yes," that cunning smile on his lips again. "You don't have to attend any other session, but there is one condition."

 _Whatever._

"You'll go to the UW with Jacob. So, I can keep an eye on you and check on you every once in a while. You'll get to come home anytime you like, you'll have everything you need paid for… And you'll get a degree that is going to count for something. What do you say?"

 _Is he serious? Is he making me choose?_

"Dad, but… You can't make me choose! You know how much… how much I wanted to go to Chicago! It is my dream, Dad! You can't…. Dad, please!"

"You know my opinion on this, Bella, and I won't change my mind. Do you really want to leave Jacob here? Have you told him about Chicago? What is he going to say?"

I was paralyzed.

"You have a choice to make, Bella. Think about everything carefully," he said, finishing the conversation by opening a beer and leaving the kitchen. I sat there, not able to move, tears streaming down my face. I made myself to stand up and go to my room, burying myself in the sheets, muting my desperate screams for help, trying to breathe as well as I could, expanding the muscles in my throat.

 _What am I going to do?_

 _Jacob. He's gonna hate you, Bella. And he will leave you as well. Dad, Jacob, the pack… You will be alone and hated. In Chicago, but hated nevertheless. And… think about it. No one ever understood you. Why do you expect this thing to happen in Chicago? Just because they offered you a place doesn't mean they will accept you. Maybe I just got lucky._

 _Yes. This must be it. I definitely got lucky._

 _So, would you risk losing people who love you, the home you have, for something so… unreal? For a dream? Would you risk the safety you have now for something so surreal as a_ possibility _of becoming an artist? Come on, Bella, you are not that good._

 _You are pretty average._

 _No, you can't risk that._

 _You can't risk that one last thing that you have left._

 _Besides… just imagine not having to deal with those shrinks that obviously needed help themselves. You don't need anyone analyzing you, because no one will ever get it. No one will. No one will ever understand the pain you have gone through, the pain you are going through every day. No one._

 _No one will ever be comfortable around you. No one will ever understand who you really are. And you won't allow anyone to know who you are. You will never risk losing safety again._

 _You wouldn't survive._

 _And Dad… You owe him so much. How many times he could've sent you away? How many times have you betrayed him? How much trouble did you cause him? He gave you this choice because he worries about you. You caused this. Had you not been so stupid, maybe he would've allowed you to go. But you did a lot of stupid things. You owe him this much. And maybe, if you go to Seattle, he will love you again._

 _Jake… you owe him, too. He loves you despite you being a lunatic. A crazy girlfriend that was cutting herself. He stayed with you. You owe him._

 _So… What am I going to do?_

And with that question, woven in every fiber of my being, every tear and every scream that left my body, I felt and felt and felt… I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't draw. I wasn't good enough.

I couldn't cut. I wasn't loved enough.

No one knew me. No one understood. And I had to find a way how to survive.

In Chicago... I wouldn't.

 _What am I going to do?_

What I felt was killing me. So, I thought of Mom and asked her for help again.

But for the first time, it felt like she ignored me, too.

 _What am I going to do?_

 _Looks like you don't have a choice, Bella._

 _You have to survive._

* * *

A/N **Looooong, wasn't it? Any thoughts?**

 **Because Bella is so confused, I AM so confused when I am writing from her perspective. She has no idea what to do whatsoever.**

 **BTW, I am pleased to announce that we will meet Edward around 11th or 12th chapter! Can** **'t wait for it, guys.**

 **Hugs and kisses,**

 **R.**


	8. This Was Confusing

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters. Stephenie Meyer does. The storyline's mine :)**

 **Again, EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you for being a badass at editing ;)**

 **I realized that jumping from the past to the present and vice versa might seem confusing. So, here's a little RECAP: Bella teaches second graders, she has some underlying issues with her past; in May she had had a panic attack when a guy she slept with reminded her of someone she had known, which made her depression slowly return. Now, she has a relationship with James; she loves him... (or so she thinks, but don't tell her just yet).**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

8\. Fifth Harmony – I'm In Love With a Monster

* * *

CHAPTER 7

 **This Was Confusing**

" _Wrap me in leather before you wrap me in lace_ _  
_ _We breaking rules like we changing the game_ _  
_ _He's trying it on, and he's ticking me off_ _  
_ _Say what you want but I won't ever be told_ _  
_ _I'm in love with a monster."_

 _Friday, November 2, 2012_

"Marcus, stop pulling Jane's hair!" I said for what must have been the tenth time. This kid was simply horrendous at times. But I blamed his father, Aro who got his ass kissed by everyone in the school because he had become a patron last year. Stupid prick. The poor kid didn't know otherwise but to demand attention by being naughty. If a kid was struggling for a longer period of time without any progress even after consultation with parents, I knew they were to blame. Parents were always the ones who fucked up their kids. I should know.

I was grateful that this was our last lesson. This day seemed to have lasted forever. And I couldn't wait to go home and get ready for the weekend with James. We were finally going to spend a weekend together and even though he came over on Wednesday night, the week felt like it was never-ending.

"Jane is stealing my pencils!" whined Marcus. I didn't like situations like this. My kids, in general, were very good and polite. But Jane who happened to be James' daughter had light fingers from time to time. She looked like an angel, and she was, in fact, a very clever and bright kid. But underneath that sweet demeanor, she was vicious. So, even though Marcus was telling the truth, and I knew Jane was to blame, his reaction to what she was doing didn't make the situation any easier.

"Jane, Marcus, stop it right now!" I said in a voice I hated to use. It was a voice of a mother and a teacher, requiring respect and obedience. I always preferred my classes to be fluid, organic, full of energy, cooperation, and mutual discussion. I knew that kids prospered the best in a creative and curiosity-igniting environment, rather than the one where grades and good behavior points were the only categories defining a child's academic ability. But there were times where it was necessary to use a more traditional approach and show that with Miss Swan, the school might have been fun, but she was still a teacher that they needed to respect and listen to.

The class silenced. I looked at Jane and Marcus. "I want to talk to both of you when the class is finished," I said, my voice stern and non-compromising. "Jane, return the pencils to Marcus and apologize. Marcus, apologize to Jane for pulling her hair."

"But she stole my pencils!" protested Marcus.

I narrowed my eyes. "Marcus, it wasn't a question."

He rolled his eyes. Jane - an innocent look on her face - pulled out the pencils from her pocket, acting like it wasn't her who'd put them in there. "Sorry, Marcus," she said gullibly, and I almost rolled my eyes at her act.

Marcus never bothered to be someone he was not. He simply growled – which was kind of funny – and took his pencils from her. "Sorry, Jane," he spat.

The rest of the lesson was relatively uneventful, Jane and Marcus not even looking at each other. When the bell finally announced the end of the school day, I couldn't be more relieved.

"Come here, you two," I said to Jane and Marcus who approached my table after class. I turned to Jane first. "Jane, do you want to explain why you took Marcus' pencils?"

Jane looked up and blinked her eyes so fiercely I expected the air to wind up and blow me away. She pouted her lips, and I knew exactly what was coming. She was simply too much like her father. "Miss Swan, I just borrowed Marcus' pencils and forgot about it. So, I must have slipped them into my pocket accidentally," she said confidently, but naively. She even used the word _accidentally._ She was way too smart and cunning and if I didn't know her better, I would believe her every word.

"Oh, Jane, you are such a liar!" reacted Marcus, frowning. "Miss Swan, you know she is lying. She always does!"

"Calm down, Marcus, please," I said to him. I know he must have been angry because of the injustice he often witnessed when it came to Jane. She was simply too smart for him. I always knew she was to blame, but she always managed to make Marcus take responsibility. And even though I _knew_ it was her doing, Marcus always became somehow more violently involved, simply because of his attention-seeking nature. So, it was always both of them to blame, but in reality, it was always Marcus who I had to talk to.

"Jane, I really wish to believe you didn't intend to take Marcus' pencils, but it's not the first time your classmates have said that you took their things," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and steady, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. This animosity between them had to stop. "Is there any particular reason why you're doing that?"

Jane's brows furrowed when I spoke, as she realized I didn't accept her explanation. She didn't answer.

I continued. "You see, Jane, I will have to talk to your parents about it," I said, grinning devilishly inside.

 _I would definitely talk to your dad tonight and make him scream my name in ecstasy, sucking his dick until he can't see straight._

"And you, Marcus," I turned my attention to him. "Whenever something is going on, it is not right to get back at anyone who might have done you wrong. We need to talk about things to make them better. In life, you are going to have a lot of arguments with people, but you have to be able to talk when you are angry, and not throw punches," I said metaphorically. And literally. I knew he would understand. "Being violent and angry has never helped anyone solve anything. And that's what you want, right? To solve a problem - for Jane to stop. All of us in this class, including me, have to communicate if we want to get along and have fun."

"But no one ever listens to me," he whined, and I saw tears welling in his eyes. Of course, he had that feeling. No one ever listened to him at home until he did something forbidden. It was his way of communicating.

Fucking parents.

"I do listen to you, Marcus," I said, caressing his shoulder. "Whenever there is anything you want to talk about, if there is anyone bothering you or you just want to talk to someone, you can talk to me, okay, buddy?"

He looked up and the corner of his mouth popped up. "Okay. But I am not the one who always tells things about other people."

"Well, fighting your way out of it is not the way either."

Marcus sighed. I felt so sorry for him. If there wasn't any change, the kid might grow up as an awful and arrogant man who would enjoy revenge and getting back at people behind their backs. We didn't need people like that. He just needed someone who would listen to him and appreciate his efforts. Why couldn't we be more caring and attentive towards our kids?

Jane, on the other hand, was by nature a cunning fox. At seven years old, she already knew her way around people and all I could do was to try to keep her as honest as possible. But her mother was the same. She didn't have much direction at home. Anything I attempted to do at school was futile as long as she did whatever she wanted at home. James, however, never talked about his daughters much and I was glad. I could at least pretend that my professional and private lives didn't overlap.

"Jane?" a repugnant voice asked, the one I very well recognized. All three of us turned towards the door, and saw Jane's mother, Victoria, impatiently waiting for her. "Come, we need to get home."

"Mrs. Maillard? May I talk to you for a second?" _Maillard._ Fucking French name, I never knew how to pronounce it. James' father was French and his mother was English, but he was born somewhere in Pennsylvania. Or so I thought. We had never really gotten into any details. Not that we really had time…

"Yes, Miss Swan?" she asked as if she were reluctant to even acknowledge my existence. Bitch. Little did she know I fucked her husband.

"I want to talk to you about Jane. She has been problematic for last few weeks. A couple of the students have been complaining that she has stolen their things – pencils, crayons, and coloring books. Don't get me wrong, Jane is one of the brightest kids in the class, but her behavior is disrupting the learning process and causes quarrels amongst the kids. I have talked to her about it and, naturally, she denies any kind of wrongdoing. Could you, please talk to her about her behavior?" I asked, trying to be professional and calm. There were still kids in the class and they were all that mattered to me at this moment. Besides, the fact that I was sleeping with her husband gave me a secret superpower.

 _See who's on top?_

"Are you trying to tell me that my daughter is a pick-pocket?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I tried not to put it like that, but… yes."

"Excuse me?"

Oh, for god's sakes! "Mrs. Maillard, trust me, if I was less than sure it was her I would never-"

"Do you have proof?" she asked, her piercing green eyes trying to fire a hole in my face.

"And what do you expect me to have? CCTV?" I retorted. "Of course, I don't. But Jane knows very well what she has done. She had Marcus' pencils in her pocket."

"Well, Miss Swan, but she doesn't have them now, does she?" she asked Jane. Jane shook her "You see? You don't have any proof I am afraid we have nothing to talk about," she said conceitedly, dismissing me. She turned her back to me and walked away with Jane.

 _How dare she?_ _One infuriating bitch!_

"What is a bitch, Miss Swan?" I heard a little voice ask, and I looked down, puzzled. Makenna was staring at me with those large brown eyes of hers and only then did I realize that I must have said that out loud.

I kneeled down and looked into her innocent face. "Oh, sweetie, I… um…"

"Makenna, a bitch is a dog's wife," deadpanned Charles, and I almost lost it. Makenna was the shiest kid I had in the class, always a little behind. Charles was the boy with a huge heart and he always felt very protective of his friends; especially, of tiny Makenna.

"Is it true, Miss Swan?" she asked, looking at me as if she didn't believe Charles' words.

"Yes," I agreed. "Charles is right, it is a female name for a dog. But it is not very polite to use it in public, remember that, okay? Some people may be offended when they are called that."

"When they are called a dog's wife? I wouldn't be, I like dogs," said Makenna, lost in thought.

Was it really that bad that I wanted to laugh?

"I can call you a bitch," offered Charles and in that moment, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

"NO!" I said immediately, putting my hand over his mouth. "No, you can't! It is very impolite. Charles, please take your things and don't mention the word anymore, okay?"

He nodded, taken aback a little by my terrified expression.

"Why can't he use it, Miss Swan?" asked Makenna and even though she was always adorable with her never-ending list of questions, I wished she would not ask any now.

"Because, as I said, Makenna, it is impolite, and we shouldn't use it in public, at school or at home," I added quickly.

She shrugged, no change in her expression whatsoever. "Okay." And she left.

This day had been long. Very, very long. And the only thing I could think about was James.

When the classroom emptied, I grabbed all my things and hurried home. I didn't live that much far away from the school, so I always walked. But now I couldn't seem to get home fast enough.

Just when I was crossing the street, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I asked as I hadn't checked the caller ID.

"Bella, where are you?" Alice.

"On my way home. Why?"

She whined. "I wanted to say goodbye. And to warn you."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Alice. I'll be alright."

"Where exactly are you going? So, I know where to look for you when you don't return."

"Alice, stop being ridiculous. I thought it was his honesty that bothered you, not his criminal record."

"It still does, but I don't like him. What if he _is_ a murderer or something?" she asked, her voice completely serious. I wish I could see her face.

"We're going to Langley on Whidbey Island," I said, ignoring her. It was a little island, less than a two-hour drive from Seattle.

"Oh, luckily, that's not too far away," she sighed.

"Alice," I said, but this time it was me who whined. I didn't want to admit to the fact that Alice's bitterness towards my relationship with James hurt. She had never really cared about my sex _or_ romantic life for that matter, she never judged me and didn't ask questions about me or my past. And that's why I always felt comfortable around her. But since I'd started sleeping with James, her obvious disapproval and loud declarations of her opinion were making me uncomfortable.

"Alice, tell me, why do you hate him so much?" I dared to ask.

"Because he is a fucking douchebag, Bella, don't you see that? I have never had anything against you or how you lead your life. But… with James, I have a strange feeling. A hunch or something."

"A hunch?" I snorted.

"Don't laugh. I _feel_ something coming. Something big. He is going to hurt you, Bella, and I don't like that. After what happened six months ago when we found you… I am worried about you. I don't want you to feel… down again."

I felt uncomfortable at the mention of my little… episode. But it made me feel good when she said that she was worried about me. However, I knew she wasn't worried for real, she had just said it to make me forget about James. "Look, Alice, I am doing good, okay? James makes it good. He makes me forget, I don't feel… down when I am with him. I feel better because of him."

Alice sighed. "I bet he's not gonna show up tonight."

"What?"

"I mean, it wouldn't surprise me if he has suddenly changed his mind," she said, her voice dipped in poisonous sarcasm.

Did she seriously mean it? I couldn't believe my ears.

"Bella?" she asked when I didn't respond.

Why was she doing this to me? "Alice, I didn't want your opinion and you're not making this any better. If you are going to act like a fucking psychic, don't call me anymore! Just fuck off!" I said, furious, and hung up. I didn't need her. I needed James. And he _was_ going to show up.

I arrived home with a bittersweet feeling in my chest. I liked Alice, but she had crossed the line. I knew everything had gone wrong the moment they had found me in the bed, drunk and depressed. Now they didn't want to let it go. What had happened then was just a little misstep. A little reminder of the past. It wasn't me anymore. I was okay now. I truly was. James made me feel better. I loved him. I needed him.

To reset my mind and focus on forgetting Alice, I put some Kanye on and took a quick shower. I shaved, moisturized and exfoliated my skin and blew-dry my hair. It'd been some time since I had last cut it and it was extremely long, falling past my waist. Furthermore, it was very thick and heavy, so it took me almost an hour until it was properly dried. I had packed my bag yesterday, so I only had to add the last few things that I needed to take with me.

I looked at my watch. It was ten past six and James was supposed to pick me up at six-thirty. I had twenty more minutes until he would be here. I checked my mail and cleaned up a little, but Alice came to my mind again. _I have a hunch… Something big is coming…_ I couldn't get her words out of my mind. Such bullshit. I mean, the only big thing I saw coming was James' dick.

God, was I horny.

At 6:45 I started to get nervous. Not that James was a very punctual person but the day itself had been too long for me to wait even longer to see him. I grabbed my bag and left my apartment, diving into a cold November evening, moving towards the parking lot behind the apartment block where I lived. I squeezed my eyes in an attempt to spot his black Audi, thinking that I might as well have waited for him here, so he didn't have to come up.

An icy gust of air enveloped me, and I dropped the bag on the ground, crossing my arms in front of me to keep myself protected from the wind. I never liked winter or cold, but I especially didn't like November. There was something about that month, about that empty transition from autumn to Christmas when everything seemed darker, gloomier and very sad in general. More so in Washington. In times like this, I wished I lived in Phoenix.

I looked at my phone and when I saw that it was a quarter past seven, I groaned out loud. Cars were pulling in, filling the lot, and the more I waited the slower the time seemed to pass. I thought about calling him, but I didn't want to intrude. What if he had an important meeting and he needed to be there? I knew he would come. Yes, we would arrive to Langley a bit late, but honestly? I didn't care.

At 7:44, when my fingers and toes were numb from the chilliness encompassing them, my phone rang. Without skipping a beat, I picked it up. "Yeah?"

"Bella?" James. Finally.

"Yeah?" I repeated like a totally dumb person. My voice was trembling; my teeth clicking together.

He seemed a little distracted. "Oh, hey, honey, I can't make it tonight. Something has come up."

When I heard the words, it was like a wrecking ball had hit me directly in the chest, making me lose my footing and falling onto the ground. FIguratively speaking, of course. I heard him saying something, but in fact, I didn't hear anything.

 _He is not going to come after all_.

"Bella?" I heard him repeat for the second time.

"Yeah?"

He chuckled. "You there? I was saying that I am sorry, but that we'll go next weekend, I promise. Victoria has gone crazy tonight. You alright with that?"

I still felt a bit dumbstruck. "I guess so."

"Good, I knew you would be okay with it. You are always a very, very good girl," he said suggestively in a low voice.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

"Look, I have to go now, but I'll call you. Maybe I'll stop by at some point during the week, okay, Bella?"

I nodded and then realized he couldn't see me. "Yes, of course. I mean… it's alright, I know you're busy. Don't worry about that, you can come whenever you want."

"Great. Again, I am sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you next weekend," he said playfully.

I smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know you will."

"I really need to hang up now. Bye, Bella."

"Bye," I breathed to the silent phone.

It only took five minutes until I was back home and burst into tears, my piece of heaven evaporating in the dark space, leaving me unsupported, making me fall down fast and hard. I felt uncomfortable and desolate; the contrast between what I had felt for the last few days and how I felt now was just too painful. Confusion and uncertainty possessed me once again and the moment I felt them coming, a new wave of tears fell from my eyes. I threw the bag in the corner of my room, and fell onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow.

I knew that what I had gotten myself into was dangerous. I was in love with a married man, for god's sakes. The father of three kids. But, in all honesty, I didn't really give a fuck; especially not about Victoria.

But he made me feel so good. I had met him shortly after that unfortunate incident in May when the girls found me in the bed, drunk and depressed. I had been feeling more miserable than usual, feeling the sadness and desperation more intensely then intensely than ever. It had been as if that guy I had slept with, the one who had reminded me of Jacob and made me scream and cry, had been a catalyst, making me relive everything I had been through, making me feel depressed again. I remembered how scared I had been when I thought it had been him lying in my bed. How scared, and then furious. A few weeks after that, I had met James in the school parking lot, where he was blocking me in with his huge black monster of a car. I usually didn't drive to work, but I had that day and I didn't believe it was a coincidence. Charming as he was, when he had noticed me, impatient and quite pissed off behind him, he had gotten out of the car and approached me. I had known him from school; I had seen him several times in the hallway during the school year. He was tall and muscular, with icy blue eyes and a ponytail, and always dressed very casually. I had always felt my insides turn when I saw him. A bad boy, I had read in his eyes. He was sexy as hell and the thought of luring him into my bed had been very inviting.

When he came over to my car, he smiled lopsidedly, looking apologetic. "I am very sorry, miss, for blocking you like that. I am waiting for my wife and daughter to come out, they shouldn't be long."

The mention of his wife and daughter stunned me, but only momentarily. I gave him my brightest smile. "It's alright, I believe you. Though, you might owe me for being stuck behind you. I am in a bit of a hurry," I said flirtatiously, lifting one brow in suggestion.

He didn't disappoint, of course. "Then, I am afraid, I do owe you. Besides, feel free to block me anytime if you want. It would only be only fair," he replied, a cocky grin playing on his lips.

We had talked a bit then, and a few days later I bumped into him in the hallway. He was with Jane and I was trying to do my best not to slide into flirty Bella mode. We had chatted and when he'd winked at me when he said goodbye, I felt incredibly aroused. There had always been something animalistic between me and him, something strongly instinctive. And I bet he felt it, too.

It didn't take us long to transfer our flirtatious encounters in the hallways to bed. At first, I just wanted his cock inside of me. I wanted to finally quench my desire for him. But after the first time he had fucked me in my car, I'd known we would see each other again. And we had. Initially, what had been purely about sex, had transformed into something I had enjoyed maybe a little too much. I loved how rough and dominant he was with me. I loved the pain he inflicted; I loved my body being simultaneously in pain and on the verge of climax. Only a few of my occasional lovers or hook-ups could satisfy my needs and James was everything I wanted, and more. He made me forget the pain I was starting to feel again. He hushed it. He made it go away. And I loved that.

Before I knew it, I was entirely exclusive with him. I knew he fucked his wife, I wasn't stupid. But I tried to ignore it. What we had, was crazy, and I loved it. Before I knew it, I loved him, too.

The first time that realization had come, I dismissed it immediately. I didn't need him. It was just sex. But the way he made me feel. I needed it. I craved it. The confusion and uncertainty of that new-old feeling made me think of the possibility that he loved me too. And I knew that he must love me. There was every indication that he did, even if he hadn't said it out loud.

" _He is going to hurt you, Bella."_ Alice's words hit me again, and I laughed bitterly. I was hurting myself. With loving him. He couldn't hurt me. It was James. I knew I had to respect his space. He was the one who was married, had kids and had an important job. I had to accommodate him. And despite the fact that I knew all of that I felt sad and disappointed, the thought of him not loving me was permeating my thoughts again.

 _Oh, Bella, of course, he loves you. You're going to spend the weekend together. Just not this one. Do you know how difficult it must be for him to handle his family and you too? Don't be a burden. Just Don't. Be. A. Burden._

Inhale. Exhale.

We were going to be good. We were going to be just fine.

XOXOXOXOXOX

We hadn't seen each other the whole week, nor had we spoken. Every time I had a phone in my hand, I thought about calling him or, at least, writing him a text. But I rejected the thought as soon as it appeared. I knew he was busy, and I didn't want to look like an impatient teenage girl, so hooked on the guy that she could not stop thinking about him. I wasn't.

But the seed of doubt he had implanted in my mind when he hadn't shown up last Friday, was growing and making me uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with you, hon?" asked Rosalie on Wednesday in my class, when I told her I was not going to have lunch today for the third day in a row. To see Alice – who was right in her suspicion – was the last thing I wanted to do. We hadn't talked to each other since Friday. Besides, I had been terribly distracted this week, barely talking to anyone; my thoughts were constantly occupied by James as I was trying to justify his behavior and why he hadn't called yet.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her beautifully shaped brows. "Bella."

I looked at her. "What?"

"What happened? Alice says you had a fight. She looks upset, too, but doesn't want to talk about it. Would you like to explain it to me?"

It looked like Alice hadn't said anything to Rosalie about our last conversation, and I was surprised by that. She wasn't known to keep anything to herself. "I don't want to talk about it either."

Rosalie sighed. "Bella, this behavior drives me crazy. One week I think you might be high, so happy all the time, and the second you are so distracted and unfocused I think you have gotten lost in your own head. Did something happen with James last weekend?" she asked. I didn't confess that James had stood me up and I certainly wasn't going to. It would just prove Alice right and I might lose Rosalie's support in case she found something valid in Alice's theory.

"Of course not," I said as if there was no way something could be wrong.

She seemed to believe me. "Then what? Is it just about Alice? Has she upset you? I know she might be a lot to take at times, especially now that she doesn't approve of James, but, Bella, you know her. She will shut up. Eventually."

"Will she?" I asked, and it came out a bit more harshly than I originally intended.

"Bella. We are your friends, you can tell us anything, you know that," she said.

No, I couldn't. "Just let it go, Rose, I'm fine."

And she did, albeit reluctantly. I thought that he would show up on Wednesday, just like he had for the past two weeks, but no. Nothing. On Thursday I started to panic a little. What if he wasn't going to call me at all? What if he realized he didn't want me anymore? He loved me, didn't he?

Simply said, Thursday was hell on earth for me. In the morning, I bumped into Alice in the hallway. But I turned away the moment I looked into her face, feeling guilty and angry at the same time; guilty because I had broken contact with her and angry because I still remembered her incredibly hostile and sarcastic comments that made me feel like I was incompetent in all things relationship oriented. What did she know?

After classes finished, Marcus' dad showed up, and I thought I was going to jump out of my skin.

"Oh, hello Miss Swan. So lovely to see you again," he said, flashing me a fake smile. I almost saw sarcasm dripping from his lips. Fucker. We both remembered our last encounter. Not a pleasant memory.

I didn't smile. "Is everything to your liking, Mr. Volturi?" I asked, knowing he was in school only to check with the authorities on school-related matters. He would never pick up his son just because he was his son. Please. Why would he do such a thing?

"As usual, yes. Is everything to _your_ liking, Miss Swan?" he asked.

 _Of course not, you fucking motherfucker!_ "Why yes, it is. We had no problems today, Marcus, did we?" I asked more gently, looking at the little boy who stood beside his father. Of course, we always had problems, the two of us, but I had no desire to fight his father today over Marcus' need for his parents' attention. Marcus didn't move an inch and his large dark eyes were on my face, shaking his head slightly.

"Very good, Miss Swan. Very good," he said approvingly, a clear warning in his voice, and in that moment, I thought about putting my fist in his face.

I didn't respond. Instead, I smiled at Marcus and ruffled his hair playfully. Poor baby.

So, quite pissed off and anxious I returned home only to find a delivery guy loudly knocking on my door.

 _Geez, calm down._

"Hello. Are you Miss Isabella Swan?" he asked when he noticed me shooting daggers at him.

"Yes," I responded and spotted a large rectangular parcel resting against the door.

"I have a parcel for you. Would you sign this, please?" he asked, handing me a clipboard with some papers.

"I didn't order anything."

"Well, miss, you didn't have to. Someone might have sent you something," he said, a little impatiently.

I signed the papers and the moment I returned the clipboard, he left. I looked at the parcel and wondered what the hell it was. I lifted it up – it was quite heavy and thick – and opened the door, walking into the kitchen. When I looked at the return address, my breath hitched, and I swallowed hard. It was my father's address. Fucking Forks.

Crap. Shit. Fuck.

For a few seconds I thought about throwing the parcel away, and not even opening it. Why would he contact me now? I hadn't seen him in years. What is inside? Maybe some of the things I'd left there. But why would he send them now? I'd told him to get rid of everything. Damn it!

My curiosity, however, was bigger than the anger I felt and despite the wave of unpleasant memories that I had always managed to suppress, I opened the parcel. I didn't know exactly what I had expected, but it certainly wasn't that. It'd been seven years since I had last seen them. But even that amount of time couldn't erase the longing and pain when I touched them, when I felt the texture of the paper, soft strokes of the brushes and smelled a faint scent of dehydrated oil paints. Some of the paintings were cracked, covered in networks of straight or barely curved lines breaking the painting in parts. God knows where they had been stored. The Watercolor paintings were not in such a bad condition, but they were too dry upon touch. Some of the paintings were on canvases, but the majority of them were on the hard papers I'd used when I didn't have a canvas to paint on. Underneath the paintings, I even found my old, thick sketchbook, dirty and with yellowed pages. When I slowly opened it, I stopped breathing.

I knew very well what I was going to find, but I didn't expect the intensity of the emotions that spread inside of me when I saw - at first - uncertain and confused sketches I knew I had drawn when Mom was still alive. Page after page, however, the sketches grew darker and more aggressive, representing the dreams I started to have after Mom's death. Black voiceless spirals and dragons, scaring the shit out of me every night.

I didn't even realize I was crying, only when the drops of water fell on one of the sketches. I put the sketchbook down before I completely fell apart, feeling the familiar lump in my throat.

 _Why now?_

With anger I reached for the box, wanting to put all of the things back into the parcel, but on the very bottom I saw a note.

 _Hey Bella._

 _Sue wanted to throw these away, but I figured you might want them._

 _I hope you're well. Leah says she misses you._

 _I miss you, too._

 _Seth._

Whatever sadness I felt was gone. Now I was furious. How dare she miss me? Fucking bitch. I had nothing to say to her. Absolutely nothing.

But Seth… I missed Seth, too. I didn't think about him much, but when I did, it was always in the best way possible. That kid had been my only true friend. I knew that now and even though I avoided him because being with him was just too painful for me, there was nothing bad I could say about Seth Clearwater; even though his aunt and sister were the queens of all bitches in the world.

The last time I had seen him must have been around two years ago. It was a Sunday, and I had been late for lunch with Alice. I was in such a hurry that I was less careful than usual and tripped over my own feet, falling directly onto my face. I remember swearing like a sailor and feeling a sharp pain in my knees.

"Bella? Is that you?" asked a familiar voice.

Still placated on the ground, I looked up. "Seth?"

"You alright? Come, give me your hand," he acted immediately, helping me to stand up. I looked down at my knees and swore again. Fuck.

Seth laughed. "I see you haven't changed."

I shook my head. "This is never going to change. What are you doing here?" I asked, still a bit surprised to see him in Seattle. After we had graduated, he had traveled quite a bit.

"I live here," he responded, still smiling widely. Then he motioned to the shop behind his back. "And this is my shop."

It was a store with musical instruments. Of course. Music was an integral part of Seth.

"Wow, it looks fantastic, Seth!" I said, genuinely impressed.

"Thanks, Bella. I really want to make a music lounge bar out of it, you know; a shop during the days and a music venue at night. I want to have my own place to play."

I raised my brows. "Do you still play?"

"'Of course I do," he smiled. "But what do you do?"

I frowned. First dagger. "I teach."

"Do you? I thought you were going to go to Chicago after graduation. I knew you had wanted to try to get into the Art Institute again."

Second dagger. "Um, no. I stayed here." _Shut the fuck up, Seth. Just shut up._

He frowned as well and probably guessed I didn't want to talk about it. "Well, I am happy to see you, anyway. You want to go for a coffee sometime? I'd like to know how you've been."

The truth was, as much as I loved seeing him; I had no desire to relive old memories. He had been a huge support to me in college, but that was it. I moved on and I didn't want to go back to what had been.

So, even though I had politely declined his offer, he gave me his phone number and store address had I ever want to see him or call him. Always so nice. But only seeing him for a few minutes had let the skeletons run out of the closet, making me think of things I had put behind me. Seth was a part of that past, and I didn't want to visit it again.

Yeah, I hadn't seen him since then. Either he had returned to Forks or was visiting his aunt when he had sent the parcel.

Taking in a deep breath, letting go of Seth, Leah, and everything Forks-related, I put the paintings and sketchbook into the box and into my closet. Feeling shaky and out of breath I put on my PJs and curled up in bed. Thinking of Mom and being alone, I eventually cried myself to sleep.

XOXOXOXOXOX

I woke up to an annoying sound coming from my phone. I looked around and it was already dark. Recognizing the tune, I knew that it wasn't an alarm but someone calling me. Absent-mindedly, I reached for the phone and picked it up. "Yeah?"

I heard a laugh. "Can't believe you're sleeping, Bella."

My eyes shot open. "James?!"

"Who else would it be?"

I got almost angry at him. "I don't know. Anyone but you. Why haven't you called?"

"Sorry. I've been busy. Just calling to make sure we're still on for tomorrow."

Oh, yes. Right. I almost said no. Almost. "Yeah, of course, we are."

"Nice. I'll pick you up at six, okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I replied, but the phone was already silent. I guess I should've been more elated, but I was too confused and sleepy to react properly. Besides, today had been one giant mess.

I looked at the time. It was 8:41 pm. Ignoring the fact that I felt relatively rested, I reached for my headphones on the bedside table and listened to Kanye until I was sound asleep again.

XOXOXOXOXOX

"Agrhhhh," I groaned in both pain and arousal when I felt the leather whip land on my ass again. "Seven," I breathed. His fingers slipped between my legs and I almost lost it.

"How wet you are," I heard him ask in a suggestive voice.

I smiled drunkenly. He was teasing me today in a way he never had before. Another whip came out of nowhere and involuntary tears streaked out of my eyes. "Eight."

"Good girl," he said.

Another whip. "Nine," I said through clenched teeth. This one was vicious.

And again. I squeaked. "Ten," I breathed and was partly glad it was over. He was unusually rough today. Not that I complained, mind you. After Thursday's shitty day, the new wave of pain and sex was more than welcome.

"On your knees," he ordered. I was lying on my belly; my legs were restricted, tied to the corners of the bed with ropes. My hands were cuffed above my head. I moved down, my body already feeling terribly sore, lifting my ass up in the air, moving onto the knees. I was about to straighten myself up when he pushed my head downward, so my face was on the bed, but I was still on my knees, my butt up in the air.

"Wanna come?" he growled, and I moaned in impatience. He grabbed my hips tightly from behind, shoving his dick violently inside me. His thrusts were ferocious and fast, leaving me breathless. My body was moving up and down, my face rubbing the sheets as my hands were above my head. I felt my insides turn and spasm around him and that was when his hand landed on my ass.

"Don't come," he hissed, and I knew better than to not listen to him. But, fuck, was it hard! I was convulsing, and I could hardly do anything to stop it at this point.

"Fuck, Bella! I told you not to come!" And that was when I felt his body bend over mine, reaching for my hair, pulling it tightly. "How dare you…"

And I came. Hard. He pushed my face to the mattress and then straightened up; thrusting into me so wildly that it was almost uncomfortable. Very soon he groaned in a climax as well.

He collapsed onto my back with his full weight, and it took a second until I caught my breath. Crap. That was something. I bet I had a hole in my ass by now.

We had arrived at Langley on Friday, shortly before eight. The hotel was beautiful, spacious and luxurious, as well as our room. He told me he had made a reservation at the same hotel we were supposed to go to last weekend. Any hard feelings I had towards James subsided when I saw him in his black car, waiting for me in the parking lot on Friday evening. He did come. He did love me. But I felt a little nervous and uncomfortable to be alone with him, to be honest. We had never been together for a long period of time. At first, I thought we could spend some time hiking or something, have a bit of an adventure, but James didn't want to do any of _that shit._ It hurt a little, but it was James, and I had to accept it.

Now, it was Saturday, and we were going back tomorrow morning. We had been fucking since last night and, and god, was I tired. But it was amazing to spend so much time alone with him. We had had a lot of sex and delicious food, but sleep wasn't something we wanted to waste time on. It was my long-awaited weekend with James. I intended to enjoy every minute of it.

He lifted himself up and turned onto his back. I was lying on my belly, still tied up. Finally, after a few minutes, he untied me and reached for the keys, and uncuffed me as well.

"Thanks," I breathed.

´He didn't respond. I stretched my limbs and turned on my back, snuggling into his side, sighing in contentment. This was pure heaven. He was here, with me. Again. And so far, we had had a weekend full of mind-blowing sex.

I turned my head to look into his face. I saw his profile glistening slightly covered in a thin layer of sweat, lit only by the dim light of the bedside lamp. I had always liked it, though its sharp edges and creases were sometimes hard to connect with his gentler facial expressions. His cheekbones were high and protruding, his jaw hard and sharp, ending in a thin and pointed chin. His nose was long and its tip maybe a bit too jagged. Cold blue irises were hidden deep under his thick dark brows, making my heart jump every time they found mine.

Tentatively, I reached my finger out and slid it from his temple to his lips. When I realized what I was going to say, my heart started to beat crazily, and I was sure he heard it. "James?"

"Hm? He asked; he didn't look at me.

I swallowed hard. "I-I think I love you."

I felt his whole body stiffen underneath me and as a reaction, mine stiffened as well. He exhaled and slowly turned his head to me. His face was unreadable, his jaw clenched.

 _Oh, god, why did I say anything?_

He was looking into my face for what felt like an eternity. At last, he moved, but not in the way I wanted him to. Without a second look, he pushed me away and stood up, putting his clothes on. Speechless, I watched him move towards the door.

"James?" I piped.

He turned to me, shrugging his shoulder dismissively. "I'm gonna have a smoke." The door closed.

Then I just sat there, beaten and naked, feeling my insides open and bleeding.

* * *

A/N **The next chapter is going to be the last from Bella's past and after that, we'll finish the first part of the story.**

 **If you have any questions, please, ask. It's a lot to take, I know.**

 **If you find it interesting, I always like to read a review or two ;)**

 **Hugs and kisses, R.**


	9. When You Start to Live a Lie

**DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The storyline's mine :)**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thanks for your perceptive eye and help this time again.**

 **This is the last chapter from the past, but I want to give you a little RECAP: In the last past chapter, Bella has cut herself severely and ended up in the hospital in Seattle, being taken care of our beloved Dr. C. Cullen. She injured her hand to the point where she lost the feeling in it for a few months. She was forced to have a psychiatrist, but she never felt comfortable with them and eventually, after a panic attack, she stopped seeing them. She has become terrified of them. At the same time, she was offered a place at the Art Institute of Chicago, but Charlie forced her to give it up and go to UW instead.**

 **The story picks up three years later, and Bella is in her junior year in college, in Seattle.**

 **Enjoy, R.**

* * *

9\. Christina Perri – the lonely

* * *

CHAPTER 8

 **When You Start to Live a Lie**

" _Too afraid, to go inside  
For the pain of one more loveless night  
For the loneliness will stay with me  
And hold me till I fall asleep."_

" _I'm a ghost of a girl  
That I want to be most  
I'm the shell of a girl  
That I used to know well."_

 _Friday, July 7, 2006_

"So, how does it look?"

Dr. Angelic's beautiful face was marred by concern and uncertainty. I was clever enough to figure out that it was worse than I had originally believed. "Bella, are you sure there weren't any falls, excessive or aggressive pulling or straining?"

"Well, I _do_ fall a lot, but by now I have learned to protect my left hand. But no, nothing. I thought my hand was okay. What is happening?" I asked, panic evident in my voice. When I had woken up five days ago in the middle of the night with the pins and needles in my left wrist and hand, I hadn't imagined it was anything serious. I had strange sensations in my hand from time to time, a tingling, prickling, slight burning feeling under my skin. But all those things were normal, said Dr. Angelic. For two and a half years, my hand had functioned just fine. But when the prickling hadn't subsided even after two days, on the contrary, it transformed into the inability to feel my fingers and even move them properly, I became terrified. It was as if I wasn't the one who controlled my wrist and fingers.

Dr. Angelic sighed. "It looks like the nerves are having a hard time. But according to the CAT scan and MR angiography of your wrist, no disconnection in the tissue that we repaired three years ago was found. I can't explain it otherwise, but to me, there has been an internal mechanical damage that is now causing distress and uncomfortable feelings in your hand. I believe it will subside in time if you are careful."

I exhaled in relief. He had bandaged my hand and I had to bear a needle, but it made me my hand feel much better.

Dr. Angelic continued. "Bella, the burning or tingling you feel in your wrist from time to time even after years since your… accident is not unusual – but ideally is not desired. It tells us that the nerves in your wrist, in the place we repaired them, are more sensitive than we assumed, and more susceptible to internal damage. You have to be cautious, Bella. The fact that your hand works well doesn't mean that it is going to stay that way forever."

"Do you think that eventually, I _am_ going to lose the feeling in my hand?" I asked in a voice that could have belonged to a five-year-old.

"Of course not. But we talked about this many times before – the treatment for nerve damage requires a long-term commitment to medication, a great deal of patience, care and cooperation. If those conditions are not met, full recovery might not be achieved."

I sighed. "But it's been three and a half years!"

Dr. Angelic laughed. "And I have patients who damaged their nerves even eight, ten years ago and still need medical attention, nevertheless." He must have seen my tortured expression because his face softened. "I know it must have been hard for you, sweetheart, these last few years, but you're doing great."

Was I? I mean, Dr. Angelic didn't know more than what I had told him three years ago, but he still thought I was having my regular sessions with a psychiatrist and a psychologist. I wasn't brave enough to tell him the truth because I knew it would disappoint him. And to see disillusionment and disappointment in those kind deep blue eyes was the last thing on my list of wishes and desires. To lose the warmth and compassion I felt when he was treating me, his obvious concern and gentle words, seemed like a punishment I wasn't ready to inflict upon myself. Though, obviously, it was the only thing I deserved.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen, for your time," I said, jumping off the high examination table. "I will be careful, I promise," I said conscientiously.

He smiled. "As long as you promise to yourself, I am okay with that. But tell me, how are you? Besides the obvious, of course," he pointed to my left hand. "Are you going to spend the summer in Seattle?" he asked, adopting a more casual demeanor. I had an appointment with Dr. Angelic every six months, and after the examination, he never forgot to ask about _me._

"Yes, most probably. I don't go home that often. All of my friends are here, my boyfriend… Forks is a dead end," I said, not able to avoid palpable detest in the tone of my voice.

He chuckled. "But you don't like Seattle."

"I don't like anything in the upper part of the US. Too cold. Too grey."

Dr. Angelic's face fell into reflection. "Doesn't your Dad miss you?"

I shrugged. We hadn't been particularly on speaking terms for the last few months. And strangely enough, I didn't really give a fuck about it.

Dr. Angelic was about to say something, but a loud knock on the door interrupted him. The nurse didn't bother to wait for his approval; she opened the door, creating a barrier between him and me.

I heard him sigh. "Yes, Brenda?"

"I am sorry for interrupting, Dr. Cullen, but your son just called, and he said it is urgent."

"My son?" There was apparent confusion in his voice. "You mean Edward? He is not supposed to come to Seattle until six," he mumbled, more for himself than anyone else.

"Yes, Edward. He says his daughter has been admitted to the hospital, and he wants you to come down, to the pediatric wing ASAP."

The chair moved across the floor. He must have stood up. "When did he call?" he asked, and I could hear a sudden change in his voice accompanied by a slight trepidation and alarm that I had never heard before. It made my stomach flutter; he was always so calm and focused, he must have been really worried about her. But knowing how big of a heart this man had, I wasn't surprised. How lucky his son must be to have such a father? His granddaughter to have such a grandpa? Reluctantly, I felt a sting of jealousy in my chest.

"Fifteen minutes ago. But I knew you were with Miss Swan, so I didn't want to interrupt-"

"No, it's okay, Brenda, thank you," he cut her off abruptly, obviously stressed, and I knew that if he had known about it sooner, he would have chosen his family over me. It made me angry. I knew that the possessiveness I felt towards him was ridiculous, yet the rationalizing of said emotion didn't make it disappear. Quite the contrary, on the top of it I started to feel disappointed and pushed away.

I swallowed hard, trying not to think about my absurd reaction. Of course, he would choose his son and granddaughter, they were his family.

Brenda closed the door and finally allowed me to see his face. His white forehead was narrowed, and he seemed deep in thought, mobile phone in his hand.

"I'll go then," I mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

"Oh, Bella," he said as if he remembered me standing there. _Sting!_ "I apologize, but I have to go. With regard to your hand, I am sure you know what to do and what not to do. If the numbness persists, or if your hand becomes suddenly completely unresponsive, come and see me at once."

I nodded vigorously.

He tweaked my nose and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, though the worry on his face spoiled the smile. "Take care, sweetheart."

And he was gone. All of a sudden, the sterility of the room reminded me that I was in the hospital, the place I avoided like a vampire avoided the sun. In a hurry I left the cursed building, taking out the ringing phone from the pocket of my hoodie, seeing that Seth was calling.

"Hi, Seth. Am I late?" I asked. Ever since we moved to Seattle – me, Jake and Seth, and joined Leah – the four of us had become very close. It astonished, but delighted me at the same time. When I didn't feel particularly well – which happened fairly often – the thought of _having_ friends was comforting. Even though, they didn't understand me entirely or grasped how I felt sometimes. Seth and Leah knew about what had happened three years ago, but never commented on it, nor mentioned it, something I highly appreciated. But what surprised me the most, was the relationship I had with Seth. When I knew I was too much for Jake to handle – because of my occasional nightmares, sadness or anxious behavior - I disappeared from the apartment and called Seth. The kid always knew how to brighten my day.

"Hi, B. No, but I can't meet you now. I have to rehearse with the band, I totally forgot we're having a gig tonight, can you believe it?" he laughed.

I smiled. "Yes, I can. Maybe I can come with Jake and Leah," I suggested. It'd been awhile since we'd properly wasted ourselves. "Are you gonna play in _The Hook?_ "

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. "Though, I have no idea where Leah is. She said she was going shopping, but you know her. She's never where she says she will be."

"Yeah. Well, break a leg. I hope you're gonna slam it, _Slamming Salami,"_ I laughed at the bizarre name of Seth's band.

"Don't laugh, it wasn't my idea," Seth said. "Okay, I have to go, I am already late. See you tonight then."

"Tonight," I responded and hung up.

It was around three o'clock, and I had already managed to run all of the errands I needed to do today. I was thinking of going to the library, but I felt too distressed for that, so I took a bus home instead. Jake and I shared Rachel's tiny apartment, and Seth and Leah had their own, just a few blocks away from us. Luckily, neither one was far away from campus.

Life in Seattle was kinder to me than the one I had in Forks. Living with Jacob wasn't ideal, but definitely less stressful than living with Charlie and Sue. And when I overlooked my not so good days, I would say that I was even sometimes content. With the third year of college finished, we had already chosen our majors; Jacob and Seth chose Mechanical engineering, and I was going to major in Elementary education with a specialization in English. Leah had graduated a month ago with a Business degree.

I had made the decision to become a teacher due to Mom and Dad; it was a profession Charlie approved of and mom had always wanted to become one had she not gotten pregnant with me right after high school. I was never told any details, but I knew that Nana didn't want her to go to college and be a mom at the same time. She basically forced her to marry Charlie which later resulted in a chaotic and unsuccessful marriage that ended in divorce. The fact that Charlie wanted to get rid of me still gave me goosebumps and I tried not to think about it much.

Ignoring the slight burning in my left hand, I opened the door to our apartment, wondering if Jacob was at home. He didn't usually offer to share his whereabouts with me, especially for the last few months. I knew that I was a lot to bear at times, and I wasn't angry at him when he walked away when. my dreams became too scary or when I found it hard to get up in the mornings, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, not being able to see a reason in anything. The fact that he returned was what mattered; as long as I wasn't alone, I could function on a basic level. He was with me, he loved me, and I loved him.

The apartment seemed empty, and for that, I was grateful. This whole day carried a somewhat bittersweet aura, and to hide myself from the outer world on a day like this was always a welcomed prospect. I decided to take a quick shower and curl up on the sofa afterwards, watching an old movie and preventing the overwhelming thoughts of despair and hopelessness from appearing until I fell asleep.

But even though my dreams sometimes were crazy and twisted, never in the wildest one would I expect what came next.

Opening the door to our bedroom, my eyes fell upon the naked couple in my bed, in a quite compromising position. The shock that paralyzed me didn't allow me to realize immediately that it was – in fact – Jacob and Leah.

 _Jacob and Leah._

 _Naked._

 _In our bed._

And apparently on the verge of climax, judging by Jacob's facial expression. I knew that face too well.

The moment I grasped for air made them stop their fervent fluid movements and turn their heads to me. The shock that spread on Jacob's face would make me laugh hard had I not been the one he had cheated on. Leah woke up from the trance first, disentangling from Jacob, looking at me in fear.

"Bella, I know how it looks like, but, trust me, it is not like that," Leah said with her palms turned to me, as if she was trying to calm me. Well, that was a pretty dumb thing to say.

I swallowed hard, my nervous system finally kicking in again. "Excuse me?"

"Bells," Jacob breathed and the moment I saw his face, his naked body and his still noticeable erection, I felt the worst kind of nausea, accompanied by the poisonous feelings of disgust, betrayal and humiliation.

When I was completely aware of what had happened, of Jacob fucking Leah in _our_ bed, I retreated back to the living room, because the inevitable wave of salty liquid was threatening to burst out of my tear ducts.

 _Jacob fucking Leah._

"Oh my god," I breathed, feeling I had trouble breathing properly, the realization setting into every cell of my body. "Oh my god."

"Bella?" I heard him from the bedroom.

"Bella, I swear it is not what you think it is," I heard Leah's voice behind my back. I didn't turn around; to see her naked body was not something I wanted to lay my eyes on ever again. And even if she were dressed, I couldn't care less about her at that moment.

"Get the fuck out," I managed to say.

"Bella…"

"Get out!" I screamed in panic mixed with anger. I had never understood those rare occasions when this wrathful feeling possessed my body – in Forks hospital after I cut myself; when I almost hurt my last psychiatrist with the books I started to throw at him out of nowhere... But it always occurred when I felt threatened, and it was as if I lost myself completely. Panic set in, making me scream in rage, and not seeing anything clearly. But I challenge you to find someone who would see things clearly in a similar situation.

The apartment door closed with a loud thud.

 _Breathe._

 _Inhale. Exhale._

"Bells, honey," Jacob said, and I knew he was behind me.

I turned to see him – now completely clothed - and the fury I felt running through my veins was the only thing that was averting the breakdown I was sure would follow. Not wanting to look at his face I left him in the living room, going to the bedroom for my bag, filling it with necessary clothes and toiletries. He was following me like a dog.

"Bells? What are you doing?!" he asked and besides panic, I could hear astonishment in his voice. "You're not leaving, are you? Come on! Bella, let's just talk about it."

I continued to ignore him, feeling the blood rise in my cheeks, making them burn.

Jacob noticed the new bandage on my wrist. "What did the doctor say? You're okay, right?"

I clenched my teeth.

"Bella, would you listen to me and stop running from me for one motherfucking second?!" he shouted, and I froze. _Breathe, Bella._

I turned to him, and I felt as if my whole body were on fire. Had I not been furious, I might have never been able to look into his face again. "What?!" I snapped.

"What are you doing?" he motioned to my bag.

"I'm leaving?"

He laughed nervously. "And why would you do that?"

"You have the nerve to ask?"

He narrowed his dark brows. "It was nothing, Bella."

I felt first tear dropping.

He continued. "Look, I know how you must feel-"

"The hell you know!" I screamed. There it was. "The hell you know how I feel! How could you, Jacob? How could she?!" My hands started to shake, and my insides were spasming, my lungs were contracting, and my throat was burning. I was infuriated, betrayed, and humiliated. "Why would you do this?" I asked.

And then it hit me. "You don't love me anymore, do you?" I breathed, and for the umpteenth time in my life, I felt my world crumbling.

Jacob didn't respond at first. Then he shook his head. "Of course, I do, Bella," but I already had my answer.

I shook my head in defeat. "No, you don't."

"Don't be ridiculous!" he said, but we both knew I was right. He didn't want me, it was that simple. And why would he? I had never been good enough for him. I had never believed there was a way Jacob could love _me_. "But I don't love Leah," he said, confirming my conclusion as if that was an excuse for not loving me.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled, closing my bag, another tear leaving my eye.

"Don't go," he pleaded, but I saw in his face that he _wanted_ me to go. Those last few months that I had felt something was off hadn't been my imagination. Something _had_ _been_ off – Jacob didn't want me anymore. I just hadn't wanted to see it.

I was crying. "W-why?"

He looked into my eyes. "Why what?"

"Why don't you love me anymore? W-what did I-I do?"

He sighed. "You didn't… I mean… You are just… you are just too much sometimes, Bella. And it fucking scares me, okay? When you don't talk to me and I see that blank expression on your face, like you're somewhere else. When you lie in bed in the morning, crying and I don't fucking know what to do! When you leave the apartment without a word and don't return for hours! When you scream at night and don't allow me to even hug you! And it drives me crazy when you cover your body when we have sex because you don't want me to touch your scars! Damn, Bella, it scares the shit out of me. I can't do it anymore. I really wanted to, I did. But I just think it is crazy what you're doing! I don't get it, I really don't."

 _Ouch._

Thousands of knives penetrated my flesh, quenching the fire, making me cold instantly. All of my nightmares had come true. Maybe I was living in an alternate universe. It wasn't dreams, but nightmares that always came true in this world.

I silently nodded because I had nothing to say. He was right. I was one miserable human being, a shame of human existence.

I put the bag on my shoulder and shaking I moved towards the door without a second look at his face. I was hollow, I was done.

"Bella?!" he asked in panic. "Where are you going?"

I shrugged, facing away from him. "I don't know."

"Come on, Bells, stay here tonight. Or, at least, let me drive you home."

I shook my head violently. I didn't want anything from him. He had had to deal with me for long enough. "No. No." And then, I looked at him one last time. "I'm sorry, Jake."

 _I don't need him. I don't need him. I don't need him._

Wandering the streets of Seattle was a familiar activity of mine, but not exactly a desirable one now. If I looked half as wrecked as I felt, I needed to find a place to crash tonight. The first thought that came to my mind was Seth. But he lived with Leah. I checked the time, and it was shortly after four. I didn't have a car, I was highly dependent on Jake in that matter. _You don't need a car_ , Charlie said. _Jake has a car_.

That night I slept in a cheap hotel room, not far away from our apartment. 'Slept' being a relative term. The next day I took a bus to Port Angeles, calling Charlie after months, asking him if he would pick me up. I was surprised to discover that he didn't know I had left our place in Seattle yesterday. Jacob usually told him everything about me.

He agreed, but didn't forget to mention he wanted to go fishing today and I had just spoiled his plan. Whatever. Nothing was ever good enough for him. The whole idea of spending time in Forks was terrifying to me and I was trying not to think about what I was going to do next. There was no way I was returning to that apartment.

"Jacob what?" Charlie exclaimed when I told him what happened, crying involuntarily. "I don't believe that."

My mouth fell open. "You think I made it up?"

"It wouldn't be the first time that you lied."

 _Good fucking lord!_ Wasn't there a place in the world where anyone would trust me? "You can't be serious."

"Let me talk to Jake."

 _Bastard._

"He's gonna deny it."

"Of course, he will, because he wouldn't do such a thing," he said adamantly. Now that I understood why Jacob didn't love me anymore, I was more inclined to understand him cheating on me. But the way Charlie was defending him, the fact that Jacob _was_ going to deny it, was making me angry once again. It was like a double betrayal. "And stop crying, for god's sakes, Bella."

And that was the end to our conversation.

Sue wasn't particularly happy about seeing me, but the feeling was mutual. Partly, I was expecting my room to be a total chaos, a storage room of sorts, but surprisingly enough, my things were still there. I wondered what had made her to not throw everything away as she had insinuated the last time I was in Forks.

Jacob called me several times until he gave up. Leah called. Seth called. But I wasn't ready to talk to any of them. For three days I hadn't left my room. I cried and wasn't even pretending I was handling this shit well. Charlie and Sue didn't give a fuck about me, singing the same song again and again – Jacob is a saint and he would never cheat on Bella, let alone with Leah. I swore I would never leave my room again. Until I heard a familiar voice from behind the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when I opened the door.

Seth chuckled. "Checking on you?"

I rolled my eyes. "And what did you come to tell me? That Satan possessed me or that I have an overactive imagination?"

He sighed. "Stop being a child, Bella. Of course, I believe you. May I come in?" he asked impatiently, nodding in the direction of stairs. This was not a conversation for anyone else to hear. Not that they were interested, anyway.

I let him in.

"Why the hell did you disappear like that?" he asked, sitting in the rocking chair.

"And why would I stay?"

"You could've called me."

"You had a gig that night."

"And?" he raised his brows and then sighed again. "I could've driven you home."

I shrugged and decided not to respond. The thought of that night made me shiver. All I could see was Jacob inside of Leah, his face, her face, how much he enjoyed it… I was nauseous again. During those three days I thought considerably about what had happened. And even though I knew I had hurt Jacob, there was no doubt that he had hurt me by cheating with one of my best friends. Why couldn't he talk to me? Why couldn't he just break up with me? Why did he have to destroy me like this? Were all the people in my life on a stupid fucking quest to hurt Bella Swan? Because, trust me, it was getting more and more ridiculous – how people I trusted were turning their backs on me. And I hadn't felt worse since the day I had to give up on Chicago.

"I was talking to Leah," Seth started again. Hypocritical bitch. How could she do the same thing Emily has done to her a few years ago?

"I don't wanna hear it."

"She says she's sorry," he ignored me. "And that she feels nothing for Jake."

"What do I care?"

"She's leaving for New York at the end of August."

I shrugged and pretended like I didn't give a shit, but I knew what had happened. She must have gotten the internship she had wanted.

"I talked to Charlie and Sue. They still don't believe that Jacob would cheat on you and that asshole denied the whole thing. Leah doesn't talk. I had a fight with both of them."

"Seth," I whined. "They're your friends. Your pack! Leah's your sister."

"That doesn't mean that I have to forgive her if she does something like that! And you're my friend as well. You have every right to be angry."

"I'm not angry," I mumbled. "Well, yeah, I am. I don't know."

"How is that?"

I looked at him. "Do I feel like shit? Yes. Do I feel humiliated and betrayed? Yes. But he doesn't love me anymore. And _that_ is my fault."

"Fuck, Bella! Don't you see? Jacob is an asshole! He became one the minute he decided to fuck my sister. And that he wasn't honest with you about not loving you just proves my point. Why do you have to blame yourself for everything?"

"I don't blame myself. It is a fact, Seth. He doesn't love me because of how fucked up I am! It is not like I have a choice in blaming someone else. It _is_ my fault. If I were normal, he would've stayed with me. If I were normal, I wouldn't have a fucking problem getting naked in front of him and he wouldn't have fucked Leah!" I shouted. I bet Charlie and Sue heard it.

Seth's facial expression was unreadable. After a few moments, he came to me and hugged me tightly. "You are perfectly normal, Bella."

I snorted. What did he know? I bet he didn't understand half of what I just said. But I wasn't going to give anyone that power over me again. No one was ever going to know how fucked up, how crazy and fucking emotional I was. No one was ever going to know what had happened to me.

No one.

"Just go, Seth. I want to be alone," I pushed him away and felt a tingling in my left hand.

"I don't want to go."

"I didn't ask you to come."

"I wanted to propose something," he said.

I stepped back. "Huh?"

"Just listen to me. I know you don't want to return to Jake's apartment-"

I snorted.

He ignored me. "And I know that Charlie would not be very likely to support you if you wanted your own place, so I thought you might want to move in with me in September. After Leah goes to New York."

Was he really suggesting this?

"I know it sounds crazy, but it is the most sensible solution to your situation right now. Charlie is simply too blind to see Jacob's lie, and I know you don't feel comfortable here," he said. I wondered if I had ever said something to him about how I felt living with Charlie and Sue, or if he was just that perceptive. "Think about it. I will take Leah's room if that's what you want. It is just for one year."

Well, yes, it sounded crazy, but I knew he was right. Charlie would most probably tell me to kiss my ass if I wanted my own place in Seattle and force me to go back to Jacob.

"Just give me time, buddy," I shrugged eventually.

"I will. As much as you want. I'm staying in La Push for next two weeks, so we can hang out if you want. I know Embry misses you," he smirked, and I rolled my eyes. I missed him, too.

"I'll call you," I said.

"Great," he smiled, and then frowned. "I know it must hurt like hell, B. But let that fucker go. He doesn't deserve you." He hugged me one last time and then left my room.

I so wanted Seth's words to be true, but it was simply too soon to let Jacob go, let alone to think that he didn't deserve me.

I wasn't worthy of anyone. Of anything, for that matter. I was just one huge example of a pathetic human being, not deserving to live.

 _Saturday, November 18, 2006_

I entered the club already a little drunk. I walked up to the bar in - what one would describe as – a confident walk, but I believed it was far from that, and winked at the barman. "Two vodka shots."

He immediately poured them. I wanted to giggle. How easy it was to make men do what I wanted. I had never had that opportunity before. And I never knew how entertaining it was - to actually flirt. There was a hidden flirty Bella inside me, and the way it distracted me from everything else was amazingly freeing.

"Bella, I think we should go home," Seth said behind me, a reminder that he was accompanying me tonight.

"Don't be silly, Seth. I'm just starting to have fun!"

"You're drunk."

"And you're not," I frowned. I wanted him to have fun, too. I handed him one of the vodka shots the barman had put on the bar. "Look. Here you go."

He didn't take it. "Let's go home."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not going anywhere," I said, filling my system with both shots of vodka. _What a burn!_ In that moment, Shakira's _Hips Don't Lie_ started to play and I was immediately on the dance floor. "Come on, Seth! Have fun!"

" _And I'm on tonight you know my hips don't lie_ _… A_ _nd I'm starting to feel it's right_ _…_ _All the attraction, the tension…_ _Don't you see baby, this is perfection…"_ I was getting carried away and I loved it. Suddenly, I felt a warm pair of hands on my hips. I assumed it was Seth, trying to pull me away from the dance floor, but when I turned around, I saw a guy I had never seen before, and my breath hitched. My first instinct was to push him away, but before I could stop her, flirty Bella made her appearance once again. I liked the feeling a bit too much.

"Wanna dance?" he asked.

"Why not?" I smiled. Part of me felt like this was very wrong, and the other one couldn't get enough of this new-found feeling. We danced, and we drank some more, and before I knew it, his lips found their way to mine, making me sober in a millisecond. I pushed him away immediately.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.

I was looking at his face. He was quite handsome. Blond hair and blue eyes. Nothing as extraordinary as Dr. Angelic, and nothing as exotic as Jacob; just a regular guy. And maybe this was what I needed. To get lost with someone I didn't know, who wasn't like _him_. I loved this feeling of being drunk and irresponsible and free. It made me forget, it made me not to feel. It made it all go away. And this felt quite adventurous.

So, again tonight…. Why not?

I pulled him closer to me. Our lips crashed, tongues entangled and before I was able to realize what he was doing, his hand went up my skirt, right between my legs.

 _Oh, fuck._

"Come with me," he whispered in my ear and I obliged. He led me somewhere in the back of the bar, and being too drunk to think clearly, allowed him to press me against the wall in a dark corner. I was taken aback by his direct approach, but I didn't stop him. I was getting addicted. I wanted to explore the limits. I wanted to feel this way forever - too drunk to fucking care.

So, I allowed myself to be aroused and get carried away completely. The guy took me home with him, and fucked me hard. When he was about to lift my tank top and pull my pants off, I was about to push his hands away, not wanting him to see my scars. But then I realized that I wanted to be normal. I didn't want guys to think I was crazy just because of the faded scars on my belly and thighs. I was fine. I was okay. And I was not ready to let go of this rush just because of some stupid fucking scars.

After all, he didn't even ask; he was too drunk to notice. His bedroom skills were not as good as Jacob's, but satisfying enough. I hadn't realized I was such a fan of sex before. I mean, I liked when Jacob and I had sex, he was always able to make me come, but I could never feel comfortable with his hands on my belly or thighs. I felt too vulnerable.

But with this guy? I realized I couldn't care less. And it was because I didn't know him. I didn't even know his name. All I cared about was him putting a fucking condom on his dick. I would never see him again, so none of the scars mattered. I didn't have to explain anything to him, get into details of why I had them and become vulnerable. I could lie if I wanted to. There were no strings attached. We were just sharing this ride together, prolonging this magnificent sensation.

I got home at what must have been 4 am. I wondered where Seth had disappeared to.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Oh, there he was. He turned the lights on and I couldn't see shit.

"Friend's place," I mumbled, squeezing my eyes. I wanted to go to bed. I was wasted.

"Oh, god, Bella, can you imagine how scared I was when I saw you getting in the taxi with some motherfucker, taking you to god knows where?" I knew he was furious, because he was swearing a lot. And he usually didn't.

"And who are you? My father?" I retorted, harshly.

"No, but you could've at least told me where were you going. I called you ten times."

"My phone's dead."

"Well, that much I could figure," he snorted. "Or you could be dead."

I laughed drunkenly. "Seth, come on, buddy. I am a big girl."

"Yeah… You look like shit," he said at last, more calmly.

"I feel good, though," I responded. I hadn't felt this good in months. Not even before the break-up.

He rolled his eyes. "Just go to bed, we'll talk in the morning."

I laughed. "Yes, _Daddy_."

"Ewww," he laughed.

"Goodnight, sucker."

"'Night, B."

The first thing I felt when I woke was a throbbing pain pulsating in the back of my head, thumping and making itself known every few minutes. Reflexively, I opened my eyes and a bright light instantly blinded me. A loud moan escaped my mouth when I shut them again and rolled over with the intention of burying my face in the pillow. But instead of landing on the pillow, I landed thunderously on the floor.

"Fuck!" I muttered, feeling pain in every cell of my body, especially my left wrist. I wondered if it was because I fell or because how much I had drunk last night.

"Bella, are you alright?" I heard Seth ask from behind the door of my room.

"Uhmmm," I mumbled loudly, and I hoped he heard how reluctant I was to continue the conversation. As he didn't answer, I sighed, and found my way back to bed, reminiscing about what had happened last night.

Had I really done what I thought I had? Strangely enough, I wasn't repulsed; not even ashamed of myself. There was no one in my life anymore, which made the situation much easier - I knew I could be spared the judgement or rejection. Dad, Jacob… All those people that were once my family, people I depended upon in every way imaginable were not here anymore. I had feared that feeling all my life justifiably, because it hurt like hell, knowing I was not important, knowing that I wasn't worthy of their attention, their love and a place in their heart. I gave up everything for them, I wanted to make them happy and make things right again. But now that I was without them, it was easier to do the things I would never do with them being in my life. It still hurt – being alone – but at least I didn't have to think about them when I got drunk or slept with a complete stranger.

At the same time, however, I didn't understand it. How many sleepless nights had I spent crying and trying to find a reason why everyone left me? How many endless days did I try to pull off my best happy face, dealing with school, bitchy professors and Seth? And all that because I had promised myself, after I had broken up with Jake, that I would never let anyone know how I really felt about my life and myself, how much I suffer. Because if they knew how weak I was when I couldn't deal with my depression, they would leave… just like Dad and Jacob. They knew, and they left. I couldn't even call it a depression. It wasn't a depression. I was fine, shit had just always happened in the life of Bella Swan, and I knew that there were people out there who had it much worse than I did. Why would anyone care about me?

I was determined to keep people away. From now on, no one would know. No one would know a single thing. And I wouldn't give a shit about people coming into or going out of my life. I didn't need anyone. I was done with this shit. Jacob had fooled and betrayed me more than my own father. He was my best friend. I needed him. I loved him. He was the one I always looked up to. But love, neediness, trust… all of those things would always eventually turn against you, stabbing you in the back.

Yesterday... I had forgotten. Alcohol induced braveness made me forget. I had forgotten about Mom, about how unhappy I was, how alone I suddenly felt, how I hated studying and how much I wanted to be in Chicago. I had forgotten about the dream I felt was never going to come true for me. And now… I was good. I was actually feeling more than just 'good', if I didn't consider my physical condition, of course. The feeling was different from anything I had ever felt, but I liked it.

After I had broken up with Jake, I spent the summer in Forks, moving to Seth's apartment shortly before the beginning of my final year. As crazy as the idea had seemed at first, I had no other choice. I spoke to Jacob one last time in Forks, when he came to 'take me home'. When I refused, he started swearing like no tomorrow, leaving me with Charlie who laughed in my face, when I told him about moving out and my plan to buy a car. He told me I was stupid.

I didn't argue. Maybe I was.

When all my dreams ended, and I had to forget about Chicago because of Charlie, I was trying ridiculously hard not to hate him. He had pushed me into corner. Either Chicago or lose everything. And I, stupid Bella, didn't want to lose the only family I had left; I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to make him love me again after I had cut myself so seriously that I almost died. I wanted to make things right again, so I let my dream of Chicago go, breaking my own heart, in order not to break the hearts of those I loved.

But time had passed, and I felt the chasm between Charlie and I widen more with each passing day. The moment he had crushed my dreams, something had died in me. And I had gotten worse as the last drop of hope of living my dream died causing me to hate the only person I had clung onto since Mom had died.

"Bella, you feel okay?" Seth's voice interrupted my train of thought and I groaned loudly making him laugh. "I made you breakfast."

Without a response I rolled out of bed, steadying myself once I stood up. I took a shower, my mind blank, though the perpetual feeling of distress and sadness caused by the memories lingering at the border of my awareness were still there, never leaving. No matter what I did, or where I was.

With automatic movements I dried my body, brushed my hair and teeth, and on my clothes. On my way to the kitchen, something outside on the street caught my attention. I moved to the window, suddenly forgetting where I was about to go, watching a young woman leaning into the embrace of a young man. She looked sad and must have been crying because she was about to wipe her cheek with the back of her hand. But the man stopped her hand. He was looking into her face with a concern I had never seen before and kissed her tears gently away, holding her head as if she were something precious and dear, and he was afraid to lose it.

The picture was breathtaking; the affection and thoughtfulness in his eyes and the trust and devotion in hers accentuated that dull and empty place in me, making every feeling more prominent.

The next realization came out of nowhere.

I had lost everything. I had lost myself. I was nothing, no one valuable, no one worthy of such affection and love. I had become empty, alone, and without a sense of purpose.

Maybe… maybe I should just kill myself.

Yeah, maybe I should.

 _Tuesday, December 26, 2006_

To spend Christmas at Charlie's hadn't been my idea.

"Bella, it'll only be one week in Forks, you'll be alright," Seth said, his onyx eyes pleading. He didn't want me to be alone in Seattle on Christmas.

"I don't want to see them. Any of them," I said again. He knew I wasn't only talking about Charlie and Sue, but also about Jake and Leah.

"I was talking to Sue, it'll be just us. And my dad."

"It still isn't the way I'd like to spend my Christmas," I objected.

"Bella, please…?" he dragged the sentence into a question.

I looked into his face which was always full of kindness and understanding and felt a sting of guilt. He had been so patient with me over the last few months. This was the least I could do for him. A week in Forks… Worse things had happened.

"Alright." I shrugged. "But if your aunt acts like a bitch, I'm leaving."

He scrunched his face at the word _bitch_ , but didn't say anything. He knew she wasn't nice to me, but he loved her. He loved everyone.

So, here we were, in Forks. We had arrived on Saturday, and so far, our stay was quite uneventful. I was surprised to find presents under the tree for me. Two were from Seth, only one from Charlie. Sue didn't even bother, and it wasn't something I expected anyway. She had been ignoring my presence - no, _existence -_ since I had moved to Seattle. Just like I ignored hers.

Now I was lying on the bed in my room, the room that had witnessed so much, inhaling dusty air, thinking of nothing. An everlasting cloud of unhappiness and desolation was once again over my head, making me want to cry. I couldn't wait to be in Seattle for New Year's Eve to properly unwind and relax. You know what I mean.

To distract myself from my continuous misery, I got out of bed and looked around the room. Even though the majority of my things were in Seattle, the room was still full of bullshit. I decided to check the drawers and the closet to see what I had left here; maybe I would find something what I would like to take to Seattle with me.

The closet was more or less empty. There were still some of the clothes I had worn when I had come to Forks, but nothing I couldn't live without in Seattle. The drawers were the same story, full of stationery, pens, old school books… and my black folder of paintings.

In a daze I grabbed it and sat on the bed, taking out all the paintings I'd kept, setting them in front of me on the bed. There weren't many. I was looking at them, and the memory of the time when I had painted them jumped into my head, making my eyes well with tears.

It'd been some time since I had painted or drew anything. It wasn't because I didn't want to, but because it was simply too painful – to engage in such an activity after I had to give up on my dream of Chicago. Sometimes, though, when I was alone, I sketched on a piece of paper, or thought about colors and how I would paint this or that, what paintbrushes I would use, how long it would take… Once again, it took me away from the sadness and misery, but also caused pain and regret… _I wasn't going to become a painter_. And that pain – the pain of a dream that got away was the last thing I wanted to feel.

So, gradually, I stopped and didn't paint or draw anymore.

I had suppressed all the memories of happiness and fulfilment when I drew or painted. I pushed them all back. I denied the whole existence of this type of art, avoiding all galleries, books and TV programs featuring art in one way or the other. It all just reminded me how much I had failed myself.

"What are those?"

The voice startled me, and panic overtook me.

 _No, no, no, no, no…_

I turned my head to the door, seeing Seth looking at the paintings in my hands. "Are they yours?"

I felt the blood leave my face, making me feel dizzy. I hadn't even heard him; I must have been totally zoomed out.

"Bella, are you alright?" he asked.

"I-I don't… I mean…"

"Did you paint those?" The genuine interest in his voice surprised me. And for a change, made me blush.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Woah, they look amazing! Definitely different, but amazing!" he exclaimed and picked up one. Still a little stunned, I didn't even protest. "How…? You never told us you could paint!"

"I don't," I said, and he looked puzzled. "I mean, not anymore."

"But why? I am not much of an expert, but this looks like some serious thing, B. Why don't you paint anymore?" he asked, curious.

I looked away. "Why are you asking? It's nothing." No one was ever interested in my before. When I was a kid, my schoolmates laughed at me because I painted. Charlie and Sue hated it.

"Don't be stupid, Bella! I want to know. Why didn't you tell me? Did Jacob know?"

"Of course not," I replied right back.

He didn't say anything. I looked at him again and he was studying my face with concern. "What is it?" he asked.

 _I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry._

"It's nothing," I replied untruthfully. This was everything to me. Everything I'd lost.

He sat beside me on the bed, caressing my back gently. "I know you, Bella. What happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head, a single tear dropped from my eye.

"Hey," Seth said, and his hand slid to my shoulder pulling me into his chest. I curled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and started to cry. I must have looked like a complete lunatic. Seth, however, didn't say a word, though I knew he couldn't understand a single thing. "We don't have to talk about it."

But after I calmed down, I told him. I told him about how I had started to experiment with drawing when I was four years old. How Mom loved my pieces and how she insisted on those ridiculous art lessons with Mrs. Cope. How Charlie and Sue hated the sketches of my dreams and how I had to stop. How I started to cut myself because of that. How I was accepted to the Art Institute and how I had to give it up.

"Why don't you try again?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"Why don't you go to Chicago and try to get into the Art Institute again? I mean, you are obviously talented. And young. And you live by yourself now. Maybe there are options, scholarships for graduates. And if not… You don't have to attend a school to be a painter, Bella. Just paint. And see where you go from there."

"Don't be ridiculous, Seth."

"I am not. You should go for it, Bella. You are so talented. And if it makes you happy… Come on, B. These last few months… You have barely been living."

"I am just fine, Seth. This is who I am. That ship sailed a long time ago."

He sighed. "Just think about it."

I huffed. "And even if I tried," I said, accepting the fact that I liked the idea, "I am sure they wouldn't offer me a place. I was lucky the last time."

"And why wouldn't they? If they offered you a place before, they would do it again. It would be like a deferred entry."

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, a four-year deferral."

He smiled. "Let's go downstairs. I'm hungry," he said eventually, and I was grateful that he let it go.

I looked around myself and noticed it was already dark outside. We must have been up here for hours. "Why am I not surprised?" I asked.

He laughed, and then we went downstairs, right to the kitchen. The picture I saw before me made me freeze in place.

"Where the hell have you been, you two?" asked Charlie, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I must have been as white as the wall behind me.

"Hi, Bella," Leah said, sitting behind the table, and the feeling of hope Seth had given me earlier immediately disappeared. I was back in reality. Come on… There was no happy ending for Bella Swan. There was just suffering and pain.

I couldn't stop what came next.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I hissed, surprised at the fierceness of my voice. I was becoming angry again, familiar panic setting in, the feelings of betrayal and loss rushing through me.

She looked wary and stressed. Oh, she must have known what was waiting for her here. Along with Jacob, she never told the truth to Charlie and Sue. They probably wouldn't have even believed them if they did.

"Did you invite her here?" I asked Charlie.

"Sue did. We all missed Leah," replied Charlie, and then he must have noticed my furious expression when he said: "Come on, Bella, stop that tantrum, and sit down. Act like an adult, for once. I am sick of your false accusations."

"Tantrum? You can't be serious!" I shouted.

"Bella," Seth warned.

I ignored him. I had a lot to say. "I am sick of your ignorance! I have had just about enough of everything. Of you, of your girlfriend, of Leah, of Jake, of everyone! All of them seem to be more important to you than me! Why can't you believe me?"

Charlie's face got red. "Stop this, young lady, right now! They are my family!"

"And what about me?" I screamed and fought back the tears.

"You are your mother's daughter! Had she listened to me for once and gotten rid of you when the time was right, I could've spared myself the torture of having to bring you up! Little whining child that you were! And how much trouble you caused me? I tried my best, but you never listened. And then I found you in your bed, almost dead. You never thought of how it would affect your family. Always selfish and conceited. You have never thought of anyone else, but yourself!" he screamed. "So, stop this shit and sit down, because the last thing I need is another crazy outburst of yours! God knows we have had enough of them over the last five years."

By the time he finished, I was crying. Seth's hand grabbed my right wrist. "I think that is enough. Come, I'll take you home," Seth said, and I knew he was angry as well, trying to keep his voice calm.

I ignored him again. "Well, you can relax now, _Dad_ ," I snapped. "Because I will never return to this house ever again!"

And with that, I left the room, bumping into Sue in the doorway. "What-"

"Are you happy now? You've finally gotten rid of me! Witch," I sneered, running upstairs to grab my bag. I was packed in five minutes, ready to leave immediately. I didn't have to say anything to Seth; he was already waiting for me in the car.

"You alright, B.?"

"Let's just go, Seth, before I hurt someone."

And with that, he started the car, and after stopping at La Push to get Seth's clothes and say goodbye to his dad, we finally left Forks.

I had never gone back again.

 _Monday, October 15, 2007_

After we graduated in June, things changed.

Seth and I had said goodbye in a rather heartfelt manner. I was crying, but not because he was going to spend some time traveling before settling down, but because I knew that it was the goodbye I had been preparing for, for quite some time – I needed to let Seth go. For good. He was a tremendous friend and a beautiful human being who had helped me a lot for the last year and a half. I wondered what kind of miracle happened that I had been blessed with such a wonderful person in my life. But he was too much of a reminder of my past. After I had left Forks behind, I concentrated on trying hard to build up my self-esteem and to let go of that pathetic little depressed Bella. And Seth was holding me back, reminding me of who I had been.

So, I knew when I drove him to the airport that I would not contact him again, and if he tried to contact me, I would ignore him. I needed to do this right. I needed to forget about who I had been, and stop being depressed all the time.

I could do it. I know I could.

But it would have to be without Seth.

Seth still believed I was going to try to go to Chicago next year as I had passed the application deadline for the 2007 academic year. I didn't say anything because a small part of me believed that I was really going to go for it. But the other part of me knew very well that I was a coward, and afraid. There had already been too many failures in my life to have my heart broken again.

No, I was trying to get better and that would only sabotage my efforts to leave old Bella behind.

The summer had followed, and I promised Seth that I would take care of the apartment until I found something for myself. Since the first day of summer I had been looking for a teaching job, and was lucky to be offered one in a private school in downtown Seattle, where I had interned during college. To find an affordable apartment in the area was a real challenge, but eventually I found a nice cosy apartment with reasonable rent for downtown Seattle.

I had enjoyed the summer fully. I had never felt as alone as had those two months. Charlie, nor Jacob or Leah had contacted me again after last Christmas and I was grateful, albeit a little heartbroken. It just confirmed that they never really cared about me. That they never really wanted me. That summer I drank a lot and slept with a few guys whose names I couldn't properly remember. One of them was quite rough with me – oddly enough - what took me by surprise – was that I liked it. No, I _loved_ it. The pain was pleasurable. Desired even. I was starting to like this new Bella more and more, leaving the pathetic one behind. The new one didn't even care about her scars anymore. If any of those men asked about them, I simply lied. I said that I had been experimenting with blood play in the past or something like that. If they believed me, it seemed to arouse some of them even more.

And I never felt as good as I had felt then. This _unrestrained_ way of leading my life was therapeutic. Though, I hadn't been sure what my colleagues would say about it. I was uncomfortable around them and I doubted any of them would understand. Not that I tried to make any friends. That is, until I met Alice.

Alice – tiny pixie-like woman with spiky dark hair - had introduced herself to me on my second day at school, a few weeks ago in September. She was two years older than me and like an annoying ray of sunshine, not leaving your eyes alone. I was quite intimidated by her at first, not knowing what her deal was, but when I found out she hated teaching and the school where we worked at as much as I did, and didn't press me for any details of my personal history, I allowed her to be… my friend as she said. _Finally, someone normal in this hole of shit,_ were her words. Well, using the word 'normal' relating to my person was a compliment enough to soften my cautious stance. Actually, she was fun to be around. I never asked about her past and what her reasons were for hating teaching so much, and she never asked about my issues with teaching – that it was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

And that was it. We were comfortable around each other and I started to be attracted to her authenticity and blank, almost rude honesty. After a long time of having only the pack as my friends, fresh air in the form of Alice was a welcome change.

Yes. New life – new friends.

"That fucking bitch Stanley is staring at you again," she said today, as said woman sat behind the table opposite us.

"I wonder what her problem is." I shrugged. It seemed like I could never get rid of bitches in my life.

"Don't worry about her. She feels threatened."

I lifted my brow. "Threatened? By me?"

"I said – don't worry. She is like that about everyone who is new. Probably is afraid that you will steal her crown and start fucking that douchebag Newton. She's been trying to get into his pants for months. I swear, sometimes it feels like a freakin' high school."

"The headmaster?" I asked, my eyes wide.

Alice giggled, pleased by my reaction. I wasn't much into gossip, but I couldn't understand how anyone would want to sleep with Newton. He might have been quite good-looking, in his mid-thirties, but he was a total prick. Even I could see that, and given my past, I wasn't known for being a good judge of character.

"Yep," she replied. "But we shouldn't really use this type of language here. They might use it against us," she winked at me and I smiled, though I knew she was right. We gradually developed our own way of communicating certain… things. Primarily those that were sex-related.

When I got home that day, I felt somewhat empty. I was still thinking about the guy I had sex with last weekend. I think his name was Gary. He was the one who had whipped my ass like there was no tomorrow, and then cuffed me. My left wrist – that seemed to be okay now - was protesting a little at that time, but I ignored it. It was just too good to stop him. And I couldn't forget that. I didn't want to. I didn't have his phone number or a way to contact him and do that shit again. But talking to Alice about it wasn't enough.

I turned on my computer still located on a big cardboard box because I was still waiting for furniture to be delivered for my new apartment. I wasn't sure if what I was going to do was a good idea, but it excited me, and because this feeling was so foreign, I wasn't going to stop. In a half an hour I had a blog up and running.

I could share what I wanted anonymously with the world. I mean… I had so much sex, and I loved it. And by the looks of it, it was going to get kinkier and kinkier. I might as well write about it. I had a new life, the new Bella in front of me. I had better do this shit the right way. I could mark my new beginning by writing a blog.

Yes. I liked the idea very much.

When I stumbled upon the idea of coming up with my new anonymous name, I knew exactly what it would be. _Romy –_ as in the Austrian actress my Mom had loved so much and _West –_ the surname of that new singer I found out about just recently. It was perfect.

So, I clicked on the tab _new entry_ and with a rush of excitement, I typed:

 _Blog n.1_

 _15_ _th_ _of October, 2007_

I couldn't be myself anymore. I had lost everything, and it was simply too painful for me to get it back. I was going to be someone else now. I was going to make the pain go away and not let people know about who I truly was. Because they would not understand me, they would go away. They wouldn't love me.

I was going to be a different Bella now.

I had to be.

I had to be a different Bella to survive.

Even if it meant that I had to start living a lie.

* * *

A/N **So, that was it. Confusing much? I had to squeeze as much of Bella's past as possible into this chapter. I promise it'll slow down from the next chapter and we will be only in the present, welcoming Edward either in next chapter, or the one after next.**

 **Can't wait.**

 **Hugs and kisses**

 **R.**


	10. This Was Supposed to Be a Metaphor, Rose

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Mezer owns the characters. Storyline's mine.**

 **RECAP: In the previous chapter from the present, Bella and James finally spent the weekend together; Bella told him she loves him. Now, let's take a look at where she is now.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thanks for your wonderful help :)**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

10\. Adele – Million Years Ago

* * *

CHAPTER 9

 **This Was Supposed to Be a Metaphor, Rose.**

" _I know I'm not the only one_ _  
_ _Who regrets the things they've done_ _  
_ _Sometimes I just feel it's only me_ _  
_ _Who can't stand the reflection that they see_ _  
_ _I wish I could live a little more_ _  
_ _Look up to the sky, not just the floor_ _  
_ _I feel like my life is flashing by_ _  
_ _And all I can do is watch and cry."_

 _Friday, December 14, 2012_

"Bartender?"

The guy with almost half of his face pierced and a blond punk hairstyle with pinkish highlights turned to me. I motioned to him with my empty glass. "Another one."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, just filled the little glass with tequila and put a slice of lime on the bar. I nodded as to say thanks, but my head felt too heavy. Maybe I'd had enough for tonight.

Or… maybe not.

The bar was packed, and the air was heavy, making me a little anxious. Not that I had ever minded before, but there was something about tonight that was pushing me out of my comfort zone. Well, anything over the last month had been pushing me out of it. And as much as I had tried to get back into my old routine from before James, I was failing horribly.

And I had a feeling that I would never get back again.

I swallowed the burning liquor, ignoring its harsh flavor. I hated tequila. Putting a fucking lime and salt into your mouth to eliminate any traces of its taste just proved tequila to be fucking disgusting. So, why was I drinking it again?

Oh, yes. To fucking torture myself. And because I knew tequila made me totally wasted.

I turned around to face the dance floor, squeezing my eyes as if I was looking for someone specific. Well, technically, I was, I just didn't know who that _specific someone_ was yet. I needed mind-blowing sex. And I needed loads of it. I needed to forget, and I needed it as fast as possible. This shit was unbearable; the familiar heavy burden was becoming too much.

I let my eyes slide the crowd, and it didn't take long until they stopped at the sight of a young, dark-haired man who had been checking me out earlier. I smiled internally. He looked like someone who could whip my ass just the way I liked it, cuff me to the headboard and maybe – if he was into that shit – I would introduce him to bondage. I just had to make sure I wouldn't mess with my left wrist too much; I'd been feeling bugs in it lately, strange tingling sensations.

 _Fuck that shit._

I swallowed hard, stood up and had to grab the stool I had been sitting on to steady myself. God, I was drunk. But it wasn't anything I hadn't experienced before. I tucked my shoulders back and held my head high, making it clumsily across the dance floor towards said man, automatically assessing the situation. I was very good at this – choosing a target, analyzing the situation and slipping into flirty Bella mode. I was rarely rejected. At first, I had always been afraid that I wasn't sexy or attractive enough. Very soon, however, I'd found out it wasn't as much about how you looked, as about how you presented yourself; your level of confidence and the art of flirting itself. If you could articulate your intentions in the way men understood, they were quick to pick up the signs. But more often than not, it was they who approached me, not the other way around.

A situation like this one was rather an exception than a rule.

The young guy was standing on the outside circle of the dancing crowd surrounded by his friends, and seeing there was no woman around him, I knew this was a good opportunity for me to get his attention. Because I knew he was potentially interested, I started to dance rather lasciviously, directly in his field of sight. I wanted him to approach me; to make him think he was the one who was making the first move, not me. It made men turned on even more, because they believed they were the ones who chose me and were, eventually, successful in their conquest. They believed it was all _their_ doing. In the end, it made them more dominant and aggressive in bed. And even though I hated that inequality in relationships, in sex it was exactly that what I needed – pain, aggression, domination. And pain again.

And, as usual, I was successful. Shortly after I had commenced my dance, I felt large hands on my waist, and saw the young man smiling at me widely. He must have been fucking boozed himself, considering he caught my bait so quickly. I was anything but a lascivious and seductive dancer. It was fucking alcohol that made me stoop to this level. But usually it worked. So, who was I to complain? If looking ridiculous would make me get laid tonight, then I didn't give a shit.

"Hi, I'm Neil," he whispered in my ear, and I felt his beer breath mixed with cigarettes on my face when he pulled away. He was so fucking close.

"Bella," I breathed into his ear and thankful that we were more or less the same height, as I didn't wear heels tonight. Thank god, otherwise I would have been placated unconscious somewhere on the floor right now.

"Sexy name," he purred, moving me closer to him, the tips of his fingers sliding just underneath the top of my jeans at my back and I almost laughed at his forwardness. I liked that. He was already taking my mind off my heavy thoughts.

Enthusiastic, swaying to the rhythm of the music, I pressed my hips into his, rubbing his crotch suggestively. Soon enough, his dick responded, and I smiled at him. Obviously, we both wanted it. Even better. Tonight was not the night for useless drunk conversations. I wanted sex. Desperately.

Shortly, we were openly groping each other, and I felt his lips pressed to my neck, leaving a wet trace as he moved to my jaw and finally to my lips. Our tongues crashed together immediately, and I remember thinking that he wasn't a very good kisser. Definitely not as good as James…

A short-hitched breath escaped my throat at the thought, and to get rid of this betraying feeling, I leaned to his ear. "Wanna get out of here?" I slurred.

"Fuck yeah," he agreed eagerly. Magically, we caught a cab almost at once, and I took him to my place, knowing he probably wouldn't have the proper equipment for what I needed tonight. All the way in the cab I tried to focus on his lips, his skin, on the fact that very soon I would be fucked again, and the pain would go away. That was all I needed.

It might have seemed as if I had won the jackpot - everything went smoothly; he was young, and more than willing to play with me. Although a little uncoordinated at first, he soon became familiar with the techniques of pain infliction and did exactly what I wanted him to do. But as much as I tried to get myself lost in what usually provided me with release and numbness, the boy's inexperience and inadequacy in certain things only emphasized painful reality – he wasn't James.

James wasn't here anymore.

And when the seventh slap of a whip landed on my ass, tears welled in my eyes. Not because of a seething burning pain on my skin, mind you, but because of the one I felt in my chest.

XOXOXOXOXOX

 _The silence was unbearable, and I silently prayed for him to say something. Anything. As if his sudden coldness and distance wasn't enough. I was even afraid to look into his face, and find what I feared the most – rejection._

 _Well, by the looks of things it certainly felt like one._

Stupid Bella. Why did you say it? Why?!

 _We finally arrived back in Seattle after spending the weekend together. We were sitting in the car, in the parking lot behind the block of apartments where I lived, and I felt horrified; afraid, rejected and humiliated. All those feelings were too familiar to me._

 _Crap. I knew it. I knew he didn't love me back._

 _But… maybe he needed a little time. I mean, we all needed time in certain situations. And his situation was particularly complicated. He was a married father of three children. And his wife was one scary fucking bitch. Maybe all he needed was time to figure shit out. Definitely, yes. I was patient, I could wait, we would get through it. I mean, I loved him, right? So, that wouldn't be a problem._

Just don't leave me, James. Please, don't leave me.

 _I swallowed the pool of saliva that had formed in my mouth, and finally found the courage to turn my head left, looking into his face. "James?"_

 _He didn't look at me, didn't even move. He was staring into the dark space in front of him, and I wished I could have a time machine to return back in time. "Will you come? On Wednesday?" I asked._

 _It felt like two hours until he finally moved – he shrugged his shoulder, still not turning to me, but taking a cigarette out of his pocket and hastily lightning it. He opened the window on his left side and put his arm outside, his elbow resting on the window frame. "I guess not."_

Breathe, Bella.

" _Saturday, then? I mean, I can cook something. Or you can come on Friday if that's better for you, I have noth-"_

" _Cut it, Bella. Please," he snapped. "I don't think that's a good idea."_

 _Oh no. "What do you mean?" I piped._

Jeez, Bella. You sound like a teenage girl.

" _We shouldn't see each other anymore," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging that fucking shoulder again, puckering his lips around the end of his cigarette._

 _A wrecking ball, number one thousand three hundred forty-eight smashed into my chest, sending a wave of uncomfortable pain and anxiety washing over me in an instant. "What?"_

" _Victoria is getting suspicious. Besides, I am too busy at work to keep seeing you; I can't slice myself in half."_

Bullshit.

 _To preserve my last drop of dignity, I stopped tears from falling over the edge, and instead, I just silently nodded, knowing that the moment I was alone, I would be allowed to crumble. I had a large lump in my throat that prevented me from saying anything._

 _I gave his profile one last glance and got out of the car, holding myself tightly, praying I would survive._

XOXOXOXOXOX

I wasn't angry. It was as if he had only confirmed my suspicions, something I had known, but didn't want to admit. Alice was right after all. He didn't love me. He didn't want me. And even despite the number of times I heard those two lines, it still hurt as if I had heard it for the first time. Over and over again.

Last month had been terrible. I fell from my little piece of heaven into hell. All my old wounds were opening, and I felt the old Bella returning; heavy sadness, desolation and misery digging their way into my life again, and as much as I tried, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Memories started to creep in, and all I could see when I was lying in bed every night, were the times when I wasn't wanted, accepted, or loved. All the times when I felt like I didn't belong.

I remembered all those times I had been alone.

And then I cried, sometimes even screamed. My chest wasn't there anymore. Instead, there was a deep, black hole that hurt in a way it had never hurt before. Not even when Mom died. Those nights, I felt the heaviness of my life, the pain I suppressed, the hate I carried. Once again, I was breaking apart. I felt the old and new Bella crashing in a hateful dance, fighting over who I was.

But I didn't know.

I didn't know anymore.

I felt like I wasn't anyone.

I had given up everything that made _me_ in an attempt to become someone _they_ wanted me to become.

And then, to torture myself some more, my mind forced me to remember all those times I had placed a knife or a razor on my skin. When I had forced myself not to draw or paint. When I had held the acceptance letter from the Art Institute, knowing I was letting go of the one thing I had been living for. The one thing that had been home for me.

 _Everything came back._

Everything I tried to hide, everything I tried to run away from.

 _It came back._

How had I let myself go so far? How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so blind? Why had I let other people dictate the course of my life? Why hadn't I been strong enough to let go of their acceptance and approval, especially from men? I had wanted them to love me, respect me… but had I loved myself? Had I respected myself enough to recognize what had been good for me? To do what I had wanted?

But the truth is… I hadn't been strong enough. If I had been, things would have played out differently. And if there ever had been strength in me, it was long gone.

I hadn't been good enough. I hadn't been strong enough. If I had been, I would have handled it differently. Now I was no one, nothing. I hated myself for who I had become. Or better said… for whom I had failed to become.

I looked over at the boy snoring silently by my side. Not entirely sober, I could still recognize the severity of the situation. What had I been doing? For these last five years… sleeping with anyone, drinking like a lunatic… But now not even alcohol or sex helped to keep the pain away anymore. Nothing was enough to keep me from it. Nothing.

Or maybe…

It wasn't like I had never thought about suicide before. But this was the first time I was seriously considering it. I didn't feel particularly suicidal right now, at this very moment… But if things became too bad, and the pain too big… _How would I do it?_

The moment I had thought of the question I had already had an answer. There was one thing that had almost taken my life before. And though it had been an accident, I couldn't see a reason why it wouldn't work this time. The only thing I had to make sure of, was that nobody would find me. So, this meant I would have to make sure Rosalie or Alice wouldn't become suspicious… _When would I do it?_

A weekday was a no-no. If I tried to cut my veins in the middle of the week, not coming to work the next day… I felt a sting of guilt upon leaving my kids. They were the only thing I would miss. And my two bitches. No, it would have to be either on Friday or Saturday. And that would give me a good amount of time to bleed out properly.

Suddenly, my left wrist burned. Stupid cuffs… which brought me to the fact that my fragile repaired nerves wouldn't survive this time. Not that it mattered, I would be dead anyway.

Dr. Angelic. _Oh_. I would miss him, too. I had stopped seeing him three years ago, but sometimes I wished I wasn't a coward and still visited him. It wasn't really an argument we'd had at the time… Dr. Angelic had just very clearly expressed his worry when I had admitted that I hadn't been seeing a mental health specialist for quite some time. And I, stubborn as I am, got angry and concluded that I didn't need any doctor. Not even him.

I shook off the memory. Another reason why I hated myself. I was terrible with people. Constantly failing in relationships _. Any_ relationships. Another reason to end it all.

I felt an oddly satisfying feeling upon thinking about my plan. Yes, this would work.

I snapped back from my bubble of thoughts, when the boy turned onto his belly, kicking me in the process. I watched him in the dark, disgust growing in me. I had never felt repulsed by myself and my whore-like ways, but this was the first time when I felt like I needed to stop them. I mean… I loved sex, and I loved pain and domination in bed, but recently I hadn't felt better after any of it, only worse. It didn't help anymore. I had to stop it. At least for a while. No sex. No men. No relationships.

Especially with married men.

Any men.

Last thing I needed was to fall in love again…

…and be left alone again.

I was going to die, anyway. Soon. I could, at least, try to pull myself together enough to make people around me _think_ I was alright. Rosalie and Alice both knew too much already.

Yes, this I could do. But I needed a clear head, and after the fiasco with James, men were the last thing I needed. Sex… Well. I would have to endure without it.

* * *

 _Wednesday, January 16, 2013_

Never in my life had I thought one could have withdrawal symptoms because of a lack of sex.

But when you start thinking of a penis even when you had absent-mindedly put a pencil in between your lips – and you are not sixteen - it might mean you have underlying issues.

"Bella?"

Frustrated, I turned to the door of the class. Kids had already gone home, but I still needed to fill out paperwork, and bring it to the headmaster's office. "Rose."

"Will you come tonight? To dinner?"

Ahhh, Wednesday dinners. Since I had stopped talking to Alice, we had stopped having our dinners. But Rosalie was fed up with us and decided she was going to make dinner herself tonight and invite us both.

"I told you, Rose, I am not going if Alice is going to be there."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's been two months, Bella, stop being stubborn. You're not even with James anymore, so why does it matter?"

 _Sting. Thanks, Rose, for a reminder._

"I'm not going to look at Alice's victorious face expression all night long."

"Bella, stop being a child," Rosalie scolded me again, closing the door behind her. "You know how sorry I am that it didn't work out. Alice was right this time, so what? We've all been in love once and blind and we are entitled to make mistakes. But she is sorry. You know that."

Yes, I knew. All three times she had tried to talk to me she hadn't forgotten to say it. But it didn't excuse her accusations and how they had made me feel – like I had been inadequate enough to assess the situation and make a right decision.

And maybe it hurt so much because it was true.

"Rose, I need time."

She rolled her eyes. "You've had enough time," she said, coming to me, kneeling beside me. She took my hands into hers. "Look at me, Bella." And I looked at her. She smiled. "You are young and hot and intelligent, so stop obsessing over James. You have to admit that a married man was a long shot, but it doesn't mean you won't find anyone else. Just give it time. You know how it is. You might have missed something good, but only because something life-changing is waiting for you just around the corner."

I huffed. "Yeah. I walk out of school and bump right into him, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "It was a metaphor. And what do you know? Weirder things have happened."

"I don't want anyone," I concluded. "I am done with men."

She laughed. "And what about monopoly?"

Now it was me who rolled her eyes frustratingly. Sex again. "Don't remind me."

"You're doing good, hun. So, will you come?"

I sighed. I did miss that Alice bitch. "Fine," I said. "But if she is going to make jokes or be all smug, I'm leaving."

Her smile widened. "Fantastic! And don't worry. It's gonna be alright," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Okay, I'm going home. See you at seven."

"At seven," I echoed, smiling weakly as I watched her leave the classroom.

I finished the papers and when I looked outside, the sun was already setting and if it was only shortly after four.

Twilight. Hm. I never liked that time of day. The light was retreating, giving place to the dark. And it was always at night that I felt the worst.

I walked into the headmaster's wing, seeing that Rosalie indeed had gone home as her desk was empty. I placed the paperwork on her desk, and when I was about to leave, I heard voices coming from Newton's office. Why was he still here? It was unusual for the headmaster to be at school so late. Curious, I stepped closer to the door, recognizing not only Newton's voice, but also the one of Aro Volturi.

I rolled my eyes, and turned to leave, not really interested in meeting any of those two.

I left the school, seeing a few kids and parents standing in front of the entrance. I turned around the corner, feeling rather well, and thinking of the upcoming dinner when it happened.

It was in a matter of a few seconds. My eyes fixated automatically on the kid running across the street like an arrow. He had appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly, a loud screech of brakes made my head spin and the next thing I saw was a little boy hitting the hood of a black Nissan Sentra with a loud thud, which had sent him up in the air, right onto the windshield. The car stopped abruptly, and the limp body slid down on the ground. I heard nothing but a loud scream coming from my chest when I realized it wasn't just a boy.

It was Marcus. My kid.

I think only adrenaline prevented me from fainting and losing my footing. In my peripheral view I saw people grouping around, a few of them turning their heads in my direction, but my primary focus was on Marcus' frighteningly still body. A tall figure in black appeared out of nowhere, and knelt beside him, and before I knew it, I was on Marcus' other side.

"Marcus! Marcus, can you hear me?!" I was screaming. Or so it seemed; I heard my voice like it was under water. I was terrified to death. Never in my life had I felt such fright and desperation. Blood was everywhere, he was on his belly, and the right half of his face was barely recognizable under the stream of red liquid rushing from a deep wound just above his ear. His left arm and leg were bent in weird angles, and the picture must have been horrifying to someone not affected by adrenaline as much as I was. I realized there was the person in black who I had completely forgotten about, his white hands rummaging over Marcus' body in calm and careful movements, a contrast to my shaky touches fearful of causing any further damage. My hearing was back slowly, and I heard the chaos around me, people screaming to call an ambulance and the police. Suddenly, the white hands disappeared. I was tempted to look up to find out where they had gone, but Marcus was all I could focus on.

"Marcus, Marcus, can you hear me?" I was whispering, my voice trembling.

"…the corner of the 5th Ave and Olive Way. A child was hit by a car and suffered heavy injuries to his head and has most likely broken the bones in his left arm and left leg. He is unconscious, his breathing is slow, and his pulse is weak, and I suspect heavy internal bleeding…"

The person in black was a man, and he was talking on the phone in a very calm and composed voice what reminded me of his hands as they were touching Marcus' body in the same way. It seemed like he knew what he was doing. He must have been a doctor. And as much as I hated them, there wasn't a doctor in this world I was grateful for more than him at this moment. Not even Dr. Angelic.

"Marcus, please, wake up," I was whispering, still feeling my body shaking a little, but the doctor's words had calmed me down a little - he wasn't dead, he was still breathing.

"…hear me, Mrs.? Mrs.?" That same calm voice reached my ears, and the moment the white hand touched mine, the one that had rested on Marcus' back, I felt only a fraction of what was about to come. Reluctantly, I looked up, and even though the oddest feeling of familiarity and an inexplicable recognition disappeared sooner than I was able to realize it fully, I never doubted its presence. I never doubted that he felt it, too.

Some people come into your life to make you suffer and show you how sadness, betrayal, humiliation and dishonesty feel. Some people come into your life to restore your faith in humanity when they offer their kind support, their loving embrace and a shoulder to cry on. But some people come into your life and change you in the rawest, most fundamental way.

They change who you are.

I wonder if I would have looked up if I had known that Edward was here to be that kind of person. If I had known what I was going to feel upon looking into his eyes that were a shade of green and the first color I had ever failed to identify. But there was no going back.

I did look up.

Only after years I realize that Rosalie had been right. Something life-changing might indeed wait for you just around the corner.

And it doesn't have to be a metaphor.


	11. This Wasn't Irony This Was a Cruel Joke

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except for storyline.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you again A LOT!**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

11\. Alanis Morrissette - Ironic

* * *

CHAPTER 10

 **This Was Not Irony. This Was a Cruel Joke**

" _Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you_

 _When you think everything's okay and everything's going right_

 _And life has a funny way of helping you out when_

 _You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up In your face."_

" _A traffic jam when you're already late_

 _A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break_

 _It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife_

 _It's like meeting the man of my dreams_

 _And then meeting his beautiful wife_

 _And isn't it ironic, don't you think_

 _A little too ironic, and yeah I do really think."_

 _Wednesday, January 16, 2013_

The doctor's face was as pale as his white hands, and the expression he wore reminded me of his voice and hand movements – it was focused and composed, quite serene given the situation we found ourselves in. His eyes, on the other side, were concerned and a bit confused as if they were searching for something. They were familiar in a way, but I couldn't say exactly where I knew them from. Their color, however, a strange shade of green, was certainly one I'd never seen before.

I snapped back upon hearing his voice. "Mrs., are you alright?" he asked again. It was only a momentary distraction I felt when I looked at his face, but intense nevertheless.

"I-I…" I stammered, looking away.

"Don't worry, the ambulance will be here any second," he assured me, and even though he sounded very formal, he squeezed my hand warmly. I looked back at Marcus and all the worry was back in an even bigger force that a moment ago, making me forget about the doctor completely.

"Marcus, hey, baby, can you hear me?" I whispered to him again, and when I saw his eyelids flutter gently, I gasped. "Marcus?! Marcus, can you hear me?" He babbled something, but I couldn't hear. "Don't worry, you'll be alright. The doctors are on their way."

"Miss Swan?" he mumbled, his eyes closing again.

I smiled. "Yes, it's me, honey. Just calm down, okay? It's gonna be alright." I wasn't sure if I said it to calm him or myself. Soon, I started to feel tears in my eyes, and the smell of the blood all around me was becoming excruciating. I concluded that my adrenaline level must have dropped, because suddenly, I was too aware of my surroundings - of people grouped around us, of the driver looking at us from afar with a horrified expression, of me and the doctor kneeling in the pool of red sticky liquid and of the half-dead body of a little boy lying lifelessly in front of me. Even sitting on the heels of my feet, I felt the heaviness in my legs and my arms, seeing black spots in my vision… and hearing buzzing in my ears.

Buzzing was never good. _Oh, crap._

The last thing I was able to do was to look back at the doctor to give him a warning. But before I could say anything coherent, the blackness had already taken me.

XOXOXOXOX

"Careful!"

I felt my body hanging in the air before it landed on something soft with a loud thud.

"What's her name? For how long has she been unconscious?" someone with a raspy voice asked.

"Isabella Swan. She was out for about ten minutes. She must be in shock," someone with a gentle voice responded.

Then someone sighed. "Well, I would be, too. I'm surprised she lasted that long. How was the boy?"

"He was conscious when they took him, but there was a lot of blood. It didn't look good."

"I bet," the raspy voice said, and there was a pause. "You're alright? You look pretty shaken yourself."

"No, I'm fine. You just don't see something like that every day."

I felt different hands on my body and I wanted them to be gone. Why are they touching me?

Raspy voice laughed. "You sure you don't want some Valium?"

Gentle voice laughed, too. It was a strangely musical sound. "No, thank you, I'm alright."

I was starting to feel my body. My eyes opened reflexively, and the bright light blinded me.

"Miss? Miss Swan, open your eyes."

That raspy voice was unpleasant. I groaned loudly, and the musical sound made its appearance again. What a contrast between those two sounds. When I opened my eyes for a second time, the light was blinding me again, but I kept blinking until it was bearable.

"Miss Swan, you fainted," Raspy voice informed me, and soon the face of a middle-aged man came into view. "We're taking you to the hospital. Please, nod, if you understand what I'm saying."

"Hospital?" I groaned, and my voice sounded like a million Raspy voices together.

"It's just to make sure you are alright. That accident must have terrified you."

The accident. Out there. "Marcus." I rasped.

"The boy is on his way to the hospital, Miss; you have nothing to worry about."

The hell I had nothing to worry about. I tried to sit up, but the man soon recognized my intention and pushed my shoulders down. "Stay down, Miss Swan."

"I need to see him."

"And you will. We're going to the hospital, a doctor will examine you, and if everything's fine, you are free to go."

I groaned again. Now, I was fully aware of where I was. I was in an ambulance, lying on the bed, three paramedics around me - Raspy voice, the woman whose hands were still on my body, and a young man whose face I saw just above my head. I knew that the back door was still open because I felt cold air on my legs. It was freezing outside.

"Take it as a free ride to the hospital," Raspy said and everyone laughed. If my arm didn't feel like it was hundred pounds heavy, I would smack his face.

"You sure you don't want a free ride, doctor?" Raspy asked, and at first, I thought he was talking to me. But before I could say something rude, the gentle voice replied: "No, I'm fine. You had better go before she freezes."

It was the doctor! The one with the green eyes. Dr. Green-Eyes.

I wanted to sit up and get a better view of what was going on around me, but Raspy pushed me back down again. He looked over at the woman. "Are we good?"

"Yes, we can go," the woman replied.

"Thanks for your help, doctor," Raspy said to the doctor.

"You're welcome," the doctor replied, and the moment I lost his voice, the door closed loudly.

The ride to the hospital was short and very quiet. Raspy shouted a few orders to the woman and the young man but didn't talk to me at all. It was the woman who asked me how I was and if I felt any light-headedness or heard any ringing in my ears. She said I had to keep my eyes open, but I felt funny - I smelled a faint odor of blood and antiseptics, my body was heavy and even though I saw and heard everything clearly, all of it looked too bright and sounded too loud.

Eventually, I must have dozed off again, because the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital room. This time I felt much better, almost too relaxed, but I could still smell blood. I looked around trying to figure this whole evening out, but there was only one word that would describe the state of my mind – confusion.

Then, the door opened, and I pushed myself up, to rest on my elbows. A man in a white coat entered, and I was grateful to be in a much more alert state to protest then before. "Why am I here?!"

"Calm down, Miss Swan. How do you feel?"

"I'm good. Now, can I, please, go?" I asked but didn't wait for an answer and sat up. It was the first time I had looked at myself. I was wearing a black skirt and black stockings though even despite the dark color I could see patches of dried blood all over my legs. The sleeves of my black turtleneck looked like they had been drenched in blood, too. I must look horrendous.

"Not so fast, Miss Swan," the white coat said. A nurse walked into the room and brought my purse. The doctor approached me, and I flinched when he grabbed my chin and pointed a little flashlight in my eyes. "Do you have a headache?"

"A little," I admitted, afraid they wouldn't release me.

"Do you feel dizzy?"

"No."

"Nauseous?"

"No."

"Your pupils are good. You fell into shock and fainted. It is a reflex – a way for the brain to protect itself. You should be alright now; we gave you an norepinephrine so you should feel better now."

"Good." At least one good thing came out of it.

"Do you have anyone who you can to take you home?"

At this question, I had to stop and think. Why was I here? What had happened? It seemed that every time I woke up I had to think really hard to remember of the last clear memory I had.

"Oh my god, Marcus!"

The doctor nodded. "As long as I know, the boy should be still in the surgery."

I started to panic and when I saw how the nurse and the doctor looked at me – with the intention to keep me there I'm sure – I calmed down a notch. "Where? Where is he?"

"In surgery. But, Miss Swan, it would be better for you to go straight home tonight. You are still vulnerable, and you need to rest. The pressure you were subjected to is a lot to take in. You won't be able to see him tonight, anyway."

"I know, but…"

"Miss Swan, you need to rest."

I nodded reluctantly, knowing he was right. And because I didn't want him to keep me in this room forever.

I collected my things from the nurse, trying not to breathe as I could smell blood all around me. It wasn't really that unpleasant, but still noticeable enough; especially when I looked at my clothes. I said bye to Dr. white coat, left the room and started towards the elevator, wondering how I was going to get home. It was only shortly before eight, but I felt like a whole day had passed since the accident. So much had happened in the last four hours.

In the elevator, however, I didn't press the ground floor. I might have said to the doctor that I was going home, but I couldn't possibly leave without at least asking someone about Marcus. I was simply too worried about him to go home. I felt responsible now.

I exited the elevator on the seventh floor which was a surgical floor. I was about to ask the receptionist about Marcus but then I spotted his parents talking to a white coat. With sudden fury, a memory of Aro and Mike in the headmaster's office appeared in my mind, talking through their dirty business while his son was being hit by a car. If there was someone to be blamed for the accident, it was that man, and I was sure I'd make him pay one day for what he had caused tonight.

"You!" I hissed, stopping in front of them. The heads of the doctor, Aro and Sulpicia turned to me, and I didn't give them a chance to react. "Do you realize what you've done?"

His sleazy features hardened, and he arrogantly popped his eyebrows up. Sulpicia, clutching his left elbow, stopped sobbing and frowned. "Miss Swan?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, Miss Swan," I replied to the peroxide beauty whose eyes were roaming over my bloodied attire. Ignoring her, I turned to Aro. "What were you thinking?! Leaving him on the street alone? You know how fidgety he gets when he's alone, always looking for trouble! How could you let him get out of your sight? How many times do I have to tell you to look after him?"

"Miss Swan," he said dragging out each syllable. "Please, I don't want to have this conversation right now. The situation is not quite right," he said calmly, but obviously irritated by my presence. That guy hated my guts.

"Quite the contrary, Mr. Volturi, I think the situation is just right. What do you expect to happen next? I wouldn't be surprised if he was kidnapped while you were having something "more important" to take care of! What could be more important than your own child, you moron? Do you realize how terrified I was, when I saw him hit that windshield, knowing his dick of a father was sitting in the office, talking about who knows what with Newton while your son is without anyone looking after him? You won't get away with this, Volturi."

His agitation was rising, and I saw he was doing everything he could to keep his face composed. Sulpicia burst into tears again at my words, and the doctor turned red under embarrassment.

I couldn't care less.

"Miss, please, could we postpone this conver-" the doctor started.

I ignored him. "If I could sue you, I would do it in a second," I hissed at Aro.

"Is everything alright here, Dr. Cole?" a calm voice asked from behind me. We all turned and saw Dr. Green-Eyes approaching us.

Great. Fucking-fantastic.

It was the first time I saw him clearly. He wasn't wearing a white coat, for which I was grateful, only a light-blue button down and black slacks, looking smart and formal. He looked way too… clean. Had he not been bathing in blood as well?

I tried to ignore his motherfucking calming presence. I didn't want to be calm. My body was lavished with worry, anxiety and rage. I wanted to punch Aro in the nose and make him finally take it out on me the way he - I knew - wanted. Fucker.

"Just a little confrontation; I'm sure Mr. Volturi and Miss Swan, are going to talk about it outside of the hospital," Dr. Cole responded.

Dr. Green-Eyes stopped by my side, and I felt his warm hand on the small of my back which momentarily paralyzed me and prevented me from launching at Aro.

 _What the fuck?_

"We are on our way, Dr. Cole, don't worry about that. Someone has to be an adult," Aro said, throwing his arm over Sulpicia's quivering shoulders.

"And what about Marcus? Don't you want to know how he is?" I asked dumbstruck. Were they really going to go before he came out of the surgery?

The hand on my back pressed harder against me. I bet that fucking doctor wanted me to shut up though he never even turned to look at me.

"We already know that, Miss Swan," Aro said smugly. "And from now on, his health is none of your concern."

And just as I was about to scrape his eyes out, Green-Eyes' hand moved from my back to grab my right wrist. He unnecessarily cleared his throat and shook Aro's stretched out hand. In the haze, I didn't realize Aro had thanked him for acting so promptly and calling an ambulance.

Oh, how well-mannered of him. Idiot. I knew him too well to know his game.

I threw one more hateful glance in Aro and Sulpicia's direction as they approached the elevator and when they finally disappeared, I sighed heavily. This was a bit too much for me to handle.

Realizing my wrist was still locked in Dr. Green-Eyes' hand, I took it quickly away, feeling burning on my skin, so I crossed my arms protectively around me. I felt his eyes on me, but as he had been ignoring me before, I did so now. I didn't need him to calm me down, I wasn't crazy. I was just furious.

So, instead, I looked over at Dr. Cole. "Now tell me, how is Marcus?" I demanded. As the anger was gone, all that was left was worry and anxiety. I don't know what kind of antidepressant they gave me, but apparently it hadn't been enough.

"I apologize, Miss Swan, but we cannot give you with any information about Marcus Volturi's health," said Dr. Cole.

"What… What do you mean?"

"Legally, I am not allowed to share that information with you, since you are not a close family relative. And Mr. Volturi specifically required not disclosing Marcus' condition to you, Miss Swan. I'm sorry."

That son of a bitch. "Just… at least tell me he is alright. Please," I begged.

Dr. Cole frowned. "I'm sorry, Miss Swan. I can't tell you anything. My hands are tied." And with that, he threw a look over at Dr. Green-Eyes who was still standing by my side and turned his back to us, walking away.

Sighing, I fell onto the awfully looking orange loveseat near me, letting my head fall into my hands. Was my life not shitty enough? I just wanted to know if he was alright. That was all. It seemed like I wasn't cut out for the life I led, for being a teacher even. It seemed like I wasn't cut out for anything. All I wanted was for my kids to be okay, to be taken care of. Was that too much to ask?

"Miss Swan?"

I looked up. Those same concerned green eyes were looking at me open-wide, and I once again had forgotten about them. Who was this man? All calm, personification of peace itself almost. He felt… surreal to me. "Yes?"

He kneeled down in front of me, his eyes searching again, not leaving my face. "Are you alright?"

I was about to retort something sarcastic, but I didn't have the strength anymore. I felt defeated and helpless – little Bella against the world. Furthermore, he helped me a lot tonight. He didn't deserve my bitchy attitude. "I just want to know how Marcus is."

He smiled at me faintly.

"You know?" I asked hopefully.

A small smile that tugged the corner of his lips fell slightly. "Of course, I do. He came out of the surgery about half an hour ago. His left arm and leg are broken in two places, and he has four broken ribs. Despite how serious the wound on his head is it, fortunately, won't leave any permanent damage. But he suffered heavy internal bleeding and for now is in a coma. Only time will tell when he is going to wake up, but there is no reason to believe he shouldn't be conscious in the next few days."

"In a coma?" I asked, terrified. That was worse than I had expected.

"It is just to prevent disturbing external stimuli that might potentially slow-down the recovery process. It was a serious accident, his body needs time to heal itself, and a few days in a deep sleep will be immensely beneficial for him to regain his strength. The first days after surgery are crucial," he assured me, talking slowly, his voice gentle and tranquil.

I sighed, my shoulders falling. "Do you… Do you think I might be able to see him?"

"Definitely not tonight. Even his parents weren't allowed to," he replied.

"But… just a peek, maybe?"

He chuckled musically. So, it indeed had been him outside the ambulance tonight. "I'm afraid it won't be possible."

I sighed again and looked away from his face, watching the fingers in my lap. I wish I had found a way that I could've prevented it. Any way. The sight of Marcus being hit by a car was continuously replaying in my head, and I could hear the screams, the sounds, the smell not only of blood but also of desperation and fear. I don't know what would have happened if Dr. Green-Eyes hadn't appeared. I could still feel myself being paralyzed by terror, looking down at Marcus' inert body soaked in blood, covered by a pair of calm white hands.

I slowly looked up to find Dr. Green-Eyes' face still looking at me in that weird searching way. "Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse. "For taking care of Marcus."

His smiled was wider this time and he only nodded. "Let me take you home, Miss Swan."

I frowned. "Sorry?" I must have misunderstood.

"Let me take you home. You need to rest," he repeated.

"I can take myself home, thanks," I replied, standing up, not wanting to impose and use his generous help anymore. I already owed him big as it was.

"Miss Swan, it's the least I can do to make sure you arrive home safely," he insisted. "Please, let me."

I sighed, looking away under the weight of his voice. "Okay then."

In the parking lot, he led me to a ridiculously expensive looking black Mercedes. He opened the door for me and for a second I looked at him as if he was an alien. Was this man real? Not in my book.

When I was in the car, I felt a little self-conscious about my dirty blooded clothes. As if he were reading my mind, he turned to me and said not to worry about it. Well, if I had a car like this I would definitely worry about the leather-covered seats. When leaving the parking lot, I told him my address, and I was surprised when he didn't ask for instructions. He must have known Seattle very well.

We didn't talk much, and because he finally wasn't looking at me, I was for a change looking at him. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms controlling the steering wheel with grace and almost no effort. He looked very… natural and the whole picture seemed very… sensual? Erotic?

 _Oh, come on, Bella, sex again?_

It was that thought that brought my attention to his face. And for the first time, I was able to properly examine it.

Dr. Green-Eyes was… different. Not that I didn't know that from that first time his strange green eyes had found their way to mine. I hadn't realized it before, but he was very handsome, though not in a conventional way. He might have been in his late twenties and could very easily pose for GQ. He was tall and lean, but obviously hiding good musculature under his clothes; his shoulders were nice – broad, but not too wide. In the small space of the car, I could even smell his scent and I swear I had smelled it before. Somewhere. Furthermore, there was something immensely relaxing and calming about his personality; his face and eyes were very expressive, but not in a disturbing way. He was too beautiful for that. The planes and edges of his face were almost symmetrically cut, leaving him with a strong jawline and an incredibly narrow nose. His lips were ones women would be jealous of, full yet not too feminine with a tint of pinkish blush contrasting with his pale complexion. His eyes were set deep, framed by thick dark eyebrows, despite the fact that his hair color was a strange mix of brown and red. Oh, that hair… Disheveled and seemingly difficult to tame, but very good looking, nevertheless. I wondered if he was doing something deliberate to make it look that way, or if it was all… _au naturel_.

As I said… different.

When we reached my block of apartments, I timidly looked at him, and he smiled. "Thanks, again," I said, trying to reciprocate the smile, but it must have looked like a grimace.

"You're welcome, Miss Swan."

I nodded, and hurriedly left the car, confused at the thought that I would probably never see this disturbingly perceptive and surreal man again.

When going to bed that night, after calling Rose and Alice who had waited for me to come to our Wednesday dinner and calming them down, I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Marcus. But exhaustion caught me quickly, and I was spared any haunting thoughts. For a while, I was afraid of the possible nightmares that I still battled from time to time, but it wasn't a nightmare I had that night.

That night I had a dream. That was the first night I dreamed of a surreal pair of green eyes.

 _Friday, January 25, 2013_

"Bella, come on, it's been over two months since we went out together," Rosalie insisted, chirping happily. I pulled the phone a little away from my ear.

"I don't know," I mumbled. I hadn't had a good week. After the accident, I had gone to work on Thursday and Friday, but it hadn't been a good idea – I was distracted, all over the place, and nervous, thinking about Marcus. Asshole Newton suggested a week off, and I agreed, thinking it was just what I needed. Guess what? It wasn't. Being alone and left to my thoughts all week had worsened my overall mood, and it wasn't only Marcus that bothered me anymore. It was as if when I was left to my own devices, my brain decided to take off on an adventurous ride of Bella Swan's memories and painful experiences. It seemed like in that one week alone I thought of everything that had ever hurt or embarrassed me or of what I had lost… I thought of Jacob, and James, and Dad and Mom and I felt like shit. I was in so much pain. I was so tempted to go and just get drunk, but as I had promised myself – no alcohol, and therefore no sex. The presence of the first almost always meant the presence of the second. So, I sucked it up, feeling miserable, sometimes crying and wishing I was dead.

But not yet. I had to make sure Marcus would be alright. Then… then I could die.

The fact that I wasn't allowed to see him didn't help the situation. I didn't know if he had already woken up from the coma or not because no one wanted to tell me anything. And that motherfucker Aro forbid the hospital staff to let me see him. At times like that, I wished I knew Dr. Green-Eyes' name and had his number, so I could ask him. I knew he would have told me.

"Bella, please," Rosalie begged. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

"Is it?" I asked sarcastically.

"Look, you don't have to stay with us the whole night. Just come and if you don't feel comfortable, you can go home. But we miss you."

"I miss you, too," I said truthfully. I did miss them. A lot.

"It'll take your mind off bad memories. You'll relax and forget about Marcus for a while."

I doubted that, but I sighed, giving in. "Fine. But don't expect me to be all happy and cheerful."

She chuckled. "You'll be just fine, Bella. So, we'll meet at our usual place at the usual time. Don't be late."

"I'm never late."

"Yeah, sure," Rosalie huffed. "Anyway, see you later."

"Yeah, see ya."

The moment the phone went silent I already regretted my decision.

When the time came, I got ready, not paying much attention to how I looked, but even despite my meager preparation, I was still late. I guess there were some things that would never change, no matter how hard I tried.

The club was packed when I arrived. People were already dancing to the upbeat rhythm of the pop music, and I was making my way through the crowd to our usual box. I wasn't a very tall person, and even though I had worn heels, it still wasn't enough to get a good view of where I was going. I spotted Alice sitting at the edge of the box talking to someone I couldn't see. Probably some guy who had caught her bait tonight.

I started to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to come here. Maybe Rosalie was right – maybe I was able to take my mind off Marcus for one night and have a little fun.

As my view of the box widened, and I got a better angle, I saw that Alice was talking to a blond-haired man who was way too handsome for his own good. Well, she was lucky, that I had to admit, I wouldn't mind having a go with him myself. Next, I saw Rosalie and Emmett who was whispering something in her ear, while she was giggling like a schoolgirl. I rolled my eyes, and it was then that Alice noticed me. "Hey, Bella! Finally!"

I returned my attention to her, kissing her cheek, before looking over to another person sitting in the box. But when I turned, he was the last person I expected there to see.

Alice must have noticed my bewilderment. "Oh, Bella, this is Edward and Jasper. Edward's Emmett's friend from medical school, and Jasper is his brother," she announced enthusiastically, obviously pleased by Jasper's presence.

So, Edward it was.

I had never thought I would say it but… Since last Wednesday, I was looking forward to going to sleep. I didn't have nightmares, merely dreams staring the calm face and deep green eyes of the nameless doctor whose presence in my sleep was as bizarre as everything about him. The dreams were calm, quiet and serene, just like him. I was finding myself thinking about him a bit too much for my liking, wondering what his name was, where he came from… That Wednesday, he was sitting there as a complete and sudden contradiction to that whole night full of confusion, fear, and horror. As I said… he was surreal, always appearing out of nowhere, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me.

Just like he was doing now.

A part of me was immensely happy to see him. My dreams weren't doing him justice. Not even a little bit. Maybe it wasn't going to be a bad night at all…

Edward's surprise was clear on his face, too, but he was the one who extended his left hand to me first. "Edward," he introduced himself for the first time, smiling lightly. So, he recognized me as well.

It was when I said my name, his eyes locked with mine and my hand slipped into his. Warm. It was warm again, except for a little cold metal I felt on his ring finger. My eyes darted to his retreating hand, and that was when I saw it.

Married. Edward was _married_.

Someone up there probably liked irony. Why not… I almost laughed at my stupidity. What was I thinking? Of course, a man like him was married. I should have known. And why was I even disappointed? It wasn't like I wanted a relationship. I didn't want anyone. I was going to die, anyway.

"Hi, Bella!" Rosalie finally acknowledged my presence, and I looked away from his face. "How are you? I see Alice already introduced you to the guys. You might know Jasper and Edward. Both are the sons of Dr. Cullen, the one you recommended to me a few months ago."

Even better. You up there, whoever you are, must be laughing hard right now. Dr. Angelic – as lovely and kind as he was – was a painful memory. I was a disappointment to him; I had let down that one person who actually might have cared for me. I didn't need any more reminders of him.

Rosalie was smiling, obviously pleased by our companions. "Jasper specializes in art, especially paintings and sculptures; he works at the MoMA gallery in New York."

Really? Ha. Ha. Ha. Jeez, I didn't even know the guy and I already subconsciously envied him, just because he worked in the gallery I had wanted my paintings to be exhibited at. Ironic… I know. Wasn't that enough already?

Apparently not, because Rosalie continued. "But Edward's a doctor. He is moving here from Chicago. He's a psychiatrist."

And that was when my face froze. Was this real?

This wasn't irony anymore.

Maybe tonight was not going to be a good night after all. Maybe Rosalie wasn't right at all. Maybe this was a _real_ nightmare, just like so many others I had experienced before. Maybe my green-eyed dreams were just a warning.

No, this definitely wasn't irony anymore. This was a cruel joke.


	12. This Was Edward Cullen

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, storyline's mine.**

 **Apologies for the delay, but the real life caught me :) Besides, I really wanted to get tis one right.**

 **Enjoy, R.**

* * *

12\. Regina Spektor – Bleeding Heart

* * *

CHAPTER 11

 **This Was Edward Cullen**

" _You can't help but stare at everyone there  
It's you versus everyone else  
Your outfit's a crime, you feel their cold minds  
Placing you under arrest  
And you serve your time drinking all night long  
Staring at the walls of your jail-like home  
Listening to that song, cause it hurts just right  
Till everything is gone tonight."_

" _Never never mind bleeding heart, bleeding heart  
Never never mind your bleeding heart  
Never never mind bleeding heart, bleeding heart  
Never never mind your bleeding heart."_

 _Friday, January 25, 2013_

With Rosalie's words lingering in the air, a sudden familiar urge possessed my body. A strong, disturbing tingle arose in my toes, crawling upwards filling all hollow places, making me feel like I might combust from the inside pressure dwelling under my skin now. I could run, just like I had the last time, and never come back. But being helplessly lost in the pool of green I had lusted after for the last week and a half, I didn't move an inch, I only fisted my hands into tight balls, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

Dr. Green-Eyes. _Edward;_ the beautiful, surreal stranger from my dreams.

"He's one of the best in his field," Rosalie continued, sharing Alice's enthusiasm, oblivious to a wordless exchange between the doctor and me.

"Really?" I asked, my voice dripped in sarcasm.

A tense smile occupied his lips now, but his expressive eyes that were – by the way – still locked with mine couldn't hide the tense confusion. I wondered if it was me who made him feel uneasy; I grinned internally at the possibility. Could I really throw him off that easily?

Not that he didn't have the same power over me.

Either she didn't notice the tone of my voice, or ignored it, because her smile widened. "Isn't that right, Edward?" she turned to him for support and the whole table did with her.

Looking away from me, he smiled at her, but the tension from his features didn't dissipate completely. "I'm sure there are others just as good as me."

What was so hard about proclaiming people that they were out of their right minds? I certainly didn't see it as a noteworthy accomplishment.

"Don't be so modest, Ed!" exclaimed Emmett, patting his buddy on the shoulder, wrinkling the white shirt he was wearing, first two buttons opened. His unruly hair was sticking out in every direction once again, and together with his casual attire, he looked even more attractive than in the black slacks I had seen him in the last time. "Seattle is happy to have you back! You've come a long way; there is so much you should be proud of."

Edward nodded. "Well, yes, I am."

I realized my eyes hadn't left him for more than a few seconds, always returning to his face. Out of nowhere, his eyes shot right up at mine again, and I frowned. They had that searching quality to them again, the one that looked like he was looking somewhere far-away, but like he was focused on something specific, very close to him at the same time.

Before I could become hypnotized by his green orbs again, someone grabbed my elbow. "Bella, why don't you get us something to drink?" Alice asked in a sweet tone. I turned to her, and I knew she had picked up on the somewhat hostile atmosphere between Edward and me.

"Sure. I'll be right back," I lied, turning on my toes and disappearing in the thick dancing crowd.

Instead of going towards the bar, I headed outside, eager to catch fresh air. Damnit! What was it about me, clubs and psychiatrists? What was it about Dr. Green-Eyes? Psychiatrist? Really? It was like another slap in the face to my life, another little shove in my back sending me towards the edge of the cliff. Honestly, there wasn't much room for me anymore; I was about to jump. Even preparing for my own death - literally and figuratively - my life couldn't spare me only to make fun of me again.

This was the moment in stories and movies, when the hero, about to give up, would find hope and strength to build their life again – when the things in their life would go right for once. But not for me; this was a different story. I was going to live in misery until the very end, constantly being reminded of what had gone wrong in my life by Dr. Angelic's son.

 _Edward._ Somehow, the green-eyed stranger was not the person I had thought him to be. The surreal experience I'd had with him last week evaporated into the thin air the moment Rosalie revealed who he was. Yes, those green eyes might be the same, but my whole perspective shifted. Now I saw the enemy who had conveniently gotten through my defenses that Wednesday night in the hospital and who – as a result of further inspection - might have seen just how broken I was.

 _After an assessment of the injuries the patient, Isabella Swan, inflicted upon herself, and the mental health examination she received from Dr. Varner, she is not advised to be discharged from care but instead should be hospitalized in a mental health institution of the legal guardian's choosing. The patient shows symptoms of depression and anxiety disorders combined with a volatile and unstable disposition. This makes her a vulnerable, weak individual, unpredictable and easily shaken by external circumstances. This might result in another suicide attempt, or worse, an attempt to hurt the people around her…_

I saw it were the words that bastard had written years ago that wanted to lock me up; the words I had read in the hospital discharge report the day Charlie had taken me home from Seattle. I knew they had made a different agreement – of me being treated in therapy. But the problem was that no one had believed me when I said I hadn't tried to kill myself; that I might have felt sad and yes, depressed, but I was in no way unstable or volatile. I was simply a teenager that had lost her mother and who was being constantly bullied by her father's girlfriend and trying to win his attention and love.

And they, _the psychiatrists_ , tried and tried again to make me look helpless and crazy. They were supposed to help me, but instead they had just scared the shit out of me. And I couldn't let go of those memories.

And now… Edward. I knew he was the same. I already didn't like him for it. And despite how broken I was, I was determined not to let him see just how much.

I took a few deep breaths and reluctantly returned to the club. At the bar I placed my order and even though I had promised myself no alcohol, there was no way I was going to survive this evening without my tequila shots. No way. After the tray with the drinks had been placed in front of me, I paid and carefully made my way back to our box. The group was in the middle of an animated discussion about Edward's job.

"…and what about psychoanalysis, Edward? Does it work?" I caught Alice asking with an unusually keen interest. I put the tray on the table and noticed how the doctor's eyes flashed in my direction only momentarily.

He seemed to ponder her question before answering. "Psychoanalysis is quite controversial. While part of the academic community views psychoanalysis as an effective and to a certain extent a reliable diagnostic method, the other – more dominant – part of academic circles consider Freud's theories to not be supported – by both quantitative and experimental research. Naturally, there are certified practitioners – psychoanalysts - but you won't find a psychiatrist who openly practices Freudian techniques as the only diagnostic tool-"

"Why not?" Alice cut him off impatiently.

"Well, the debate about psychoanalysis is too divisive for a trained professional to rely merely on the questions and answers that the specialist interprets according to their own understanding. However, there are case studies that prove the technique to be useful and functional. I, personally, have had only positive experiences with it."

Whoa. He was _obsessed_. And he looked like he needed to loosen up a bit; he seemed a bit on edge tonight.

"So," Alice started again. "Do you practice psychoanalysis?"

"Not officially. I don't have any certification to call myself a psychoanalyst. But yes, with the patient's consent I have experimented with it and interestingly I have found it to be helpful when diagnosing and uncovering a patient's obstacles; especially when the patient is cooperative."

I wanted to snort, and when the eyes of everyone moved from Edward to me, I realized that I had actually snorted out loud. I looked directly at Green-Eyes who was frowning at me.

"Oh, I wish I could get psychoanalyzed! Edward, can I have a session with you? I'll pay, of course!" Alice had drawn attention to herself and the doctor smiled faintly at her.

Jasper laughed. "Oh no, you don't wish that."

"Why not?" Alice asked a little sad now. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, because this shrink knows very well what he does and soon you'll know things about yourself that you never wanted to know in the first place," Jasper replied, a languid grin still playing in the right upper corner of his mouth.

"Jasper." Edward rolled his eyes but chuckled musically and at that point his eyes lit up and his whole demeanor changed into one that was more relaxed.

"Come on, bro. It's true! I once tried to be his experiment rat on whom he could try this crazy _twenty questions game_ on, and after the session I swore I would never do it again. Damn, you scared the shit out of me with your assumptions."

Emmett and Rose laughed. Edward sighed, but he was smiling, too. "It's been years, Jazz. I probably had no idea what I was doing."

"Still, if I were you, beautiful Alice, I would think twice about putting your thoughts into his hands," Jasper said, his voice changing into a slow seductive southern drawl. That was strange; I didn't detect any sign of a southern accent in Edward's voice. Then, even though he leaned into her ear, we could still hear him. "Though, my hands are much more capable in other areas…"

Alice giggled, and I was once again tempted to roll my eyes at her childishness. The whole table chuckled.

"I bet you have some really crazy experiences with it, don't you?" Rosalie asked.

Jasper's grin widened wickedly. He winked at her. "You betcha."

Everyone laughed again, except for Rosalie who huffed. I think she was blushing. "I was asking Edward."

Edward shrugged. "It's not as exciting as it sounds. I don't practice it that much, since for most of the patients I treat, psychoanalysis is not recommended. But in a way, as Jasper said, you can certainly learn many things you have never previously known about yourself, and never fully realized."

I couldn't help myself, but snort again. "Oh, really, _Dr. Cullen_? Like most men want to fuck their own mothers and suffer from an Oedipus complex?"

It was the first time I had addressed him directly, and the way he looked at me was quizzical. "That's a quite prejudiced belief, don't you think, _Miss Swan_?"

"Do you know each other?" Alice asked when he used my surname.

I shrugged taking a shot of tequila. "We met at the hospital last week, didn't we? And to answer your question - I think psychoanalysis is bullshit."

His brows jumped up at my forwardness, but just when he opened his mouth to say something, I turned the glass, swallowed the disgusting liquor but never looked away from his eyes. He closed his mouth and the features of his face hardened. "Maybe you should educate yourself a bit more."

I chuckled dryly. "Yeah, sure. I think I know enough about the subject. But look at Alice," I motioned to her with my empty glass. "She seems interested."

"Bella," Rosalie said in a warning tone.

I turned to her. She was frowning, and Emmett was eyeing me with a hateful glare. He must hate me right now. "What? Can't I express my opinion about it? Does everyone around this table have to be so damn enthusiastic about Dr. Cullen's job?"

Alice touched my elbow again, and being all defensive, I shook off her hand. "Why don't you sit down? I know it's been a hard week for you. Just relax."

I rolled my eyes. Why did she need to rub it in everyone's face? " _I'm fine_ , Alice," I snapped at her, but took a seat beside the doctor, because there was no room on her side of the box.

I felt Edward's eyes on me again, but I ignored his stare. Instead, I took another glass of tequila I had bought, and drank it, this time with salt and lime following.

"So, Jasper," Rose turned to him. "What is your job like back in New York? What do you do for the gallery?"

Oh, really? Couldn't we just leave the topic of what both of them did for a living?

Jasper didn't seem to be as passionate as his brother. He shrugged. "Basically, I am a curator. I am in charge of the collection, care and display of items in the gallery. But besides that, I am responsible for the international acquisition of artwork, I am looking for new artists whose artwork we can display, and visit different galleries all around the world to find them," Jasper explained. My chest constricted with longing and memories of my own painting aspirations, and while Dr. Psycho's occupation managed to anger me, Jasper's silenced me and made me feel small and insignificant. Again, I became that young girl who believed she could have her own studio one day, who believed in her dreams.

But now, I was here, drinking tequila, being reminded of what a failure I was – how I had betrayed myself and given up.

"Where did you study?" Alice asked.

"The Art Institute in Chicago," Jasper answered. "Art history and criticism."

"Cool," she nodded. Only now I realized that I was digging the nails of my right fingers into the back of my left fingers. I whimpered silently in pain. "That must have been great," Alice continued.

Jasper answered her, but I wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Bella, are you okay?"

I turned in the direction where that calm voice had come from and saw Edward watching me. "What?"

"Are you feeling okay?" he repeated softly, touching my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. There he was again, calm and attentive, his green eyes hypnotizing the shit out of me.

I snorted. "Yes _, I'm fine_. What is wrong with you all tonight? _I am fine_ ," I spoke sharply.

His touch as soft as the stroke of feathers disappeared in the snippet of a second, leaving me burned, and the features of his beautiful face turned to surprise, only to harden again. Without a word he turned away from me.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed the last shot of tequila that nobody seemed to be interested in, and as soon as the taste disappeared, I made my way to the dance floor. I needed to forget, I needed to get away from them. Away from Rosalie, Emmett, Alice. From Jasper and _Edward_.

Deep in the crowd it didn't take long before I found someone to dance with. The man was around my age, not too tall, but well-built, with huge biceps and short cropped hair. After the first two dances he took me to the bar, and while I was forgetting myself in alcohol, his large hands roamed all over my body. Having gone two months without sex and feeling the promise of the complete amnesia and numbness I needed, I encouraged him. The promise to abstain from sex and alcohol that I had made to myself was long forgotten by this point, but before I could take him home with me, I needed to tell the girls I was leaving.

"Hey, Matt, I need to… I need to tell my friends I'm leaving, 'kay? Just wait for me here, 'kay?" I ordered him inarticulately.

He smiled at me lazily, kissing my neck. "'kay, sugar."

I rolled my eyes and made my way back to the box. At first, I thought it was empty, but then I squeezed my eyes and saw that only Emmett and his super-doctor-buddy were sitting there. They spotted me as soon as I was in their view. "Hey!"

"Bella," Emmett greeted me, being as standoffish as usual.

"Hey," I repeated, looking around me. "Where… where are the others?"

"Rosie's in the restroom, and Jasper and Alice are dancing."

I nodded, drunkenly exaggerating the movement. "Riiight. Shame you don't have anyone to dance with, huh, doctor?" I looked at Edward whose brows narrowed in a scowl again. "Don't frown at me, _I ain't gonna be the one_ ," I sang my made-up tune and laughed. "I already found myself a partner, thank you very much."

And just as I said those words, two large arms wrapped around me from behind. "There you are, sugar."

"I told you to wait for me," I told the guy while he was eagerly pressing his body into mine. Looking back at the table I saw Emmett watching me despised, while Edward looked like he was... Whoa, he looked pissed off… Ridiculous man. No, I wasn't nice to him tonight, nor had I planned to be, but the look he was giving me now… Well, it wasn't nice.

"Anyway, as you can see, I'm going to teach Matt here a lesson or two, so just tell the girls I went home, 'kay?"

"No worries," Emmett said.

"Good. Have fun, Em and dance with Rose, will you?"

He nodded.

I turned to the doctor, and for the last time I looked into those green depths, to make sure I remembered them well. "Well, goodbye, Dr. Cullen." And then, remembering a bittersweet betrayal, I said: "Maybe next time you should bring your wife, you know… so you have someone to dance with. You don't look like someone who gets to have fun very often."

Edward inhaled deeply, and I wouldn't have thought that it was possible for him to grow even angrier, but he did. "Goodbye, Miss Swan."

I smiled wickedly at him, pleased at how uncomfortable he felt, even though I had no idea why.

We left the club in quite a rush and hailed a cab. Matt seemed to be just as impatient as me if not more because he kept groping me all the way to my apartment.

"Oh, sugar, I want to fuck your brains out," he whispered into my ear, once I closed the apartment door behind me.

"Whoa!" I squeaked when he pushed me angrily against said door, his tongue in my mouth now, while his hands were squeezing my butt.

My hands roamed his wide muscular shoulders, and I pushed him away a bit to catch my breath. "Don't worry, we'll get there," I said against his mouth that soon shut me up again. He was unusually strong and while it normally turned me on, I became a bit frightened. "Slow down, tiger," I smiled at him in between kisses. "Let's take this to the bedroom."

Luckily, he followed me, the bulge in his pants visible enough for me to see that he was not going to give up tonight. When we entered the room, he pinched me against the wall, and grabbed both of my wrists above my head, pinning them to the wall with his right hand. Oh, he was rough. I liked that. While his tongue was still exploring my mouth, his left hand massaged my breasts, sliding down until it palmed my burning sex. Oh, yes. Yes. Finally.

I growled into his mouth and he did so as well. After minutes of a violent make-out session against the wall, he took me close to the bed, pushing me backwards until I fell onto the mattress. He looked at me hungrily from above, as if I were his prey, his blue eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. For the first time since he had laid his hands on me in the club, I felt sober. The force with which he landed on me almost made me lose my breath. "So, you said you like it rough," he laughed. "Me too, sugar. I like it rough, too." And with that said, he reached for my blouse.

"Stop!"

He laughed again.

"Stop!"

The laugh didn't stop. He was tearing my blouse because he couldn't manage the buttons. He was way too impatient.

"Matt, stop!"

"Oh, I know what game we're playing. Don't worry, you'll never forget this one," he chuckled; now unclasping his pants.

I started to writhe underneath him, hoping he would finally understand that this was not a game. Not anymore.

I grabbed his wrists. "Matt, STOP!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?"

"Stop touching me! Just go, get off me! Go away!" I screamed now, panic setting in, and as soon as I managed to crawl out from underneath him, I left the bed and stood as far away as possible. I was still drunk, there was no doubt about that, but there was a soberness in one part of my mind, the one I had been suppressing for a long time, finding its way out.

"Are you crazy?! What's wrong with you?" he repeated, standing at the edge of the bed opposite me, his pants open, his face furious.

"Just go," I said to him, my voice shaking. "I changed my mind."

"Are you mad? This was not the deal!" he said and started towards me.

"Stay. Away. From. Me!"

"Come on, Sugar, what happened? I thought you liked it."

"I did, but I changed my mind. Now, go!" I said again, retreating backward while he was walking towards me.

"Oh, babe, you see this?" he motioned to his protruding erection. "This won't go away on its own, Sugar."

"GO AWAY!" I screamed, grabbing a lamp, and I was so freaked out that I was not afraid to use it. "Leave this apartment. NOW!"

He was watching me for what felt like five minutes, and then he shrugged, reaching down to his hips. My grip around the lamp tightened, but then I realized he was putting his penis back to his pants. "You lousy bitch. Next time you better know what you want," he snarled at me and turned to walk away. "Fucking whore."

The loud thud of the apartment door closing brought my consciousness into an alert state again, realizing myself and my surroundings fully again. I was standing in my bedroom, with the lamp in my hand, shaking and panting.

What had just happened? This wasn't only the question Matt had asked me. It was the question I was now asking myself. Wasn't sex what I had wanted? Didn't I want it rough? Wasn't this the thing I always did? Bringing a stranger home with me, so we could fuck? Meeting with men of a certain reputation so they could beat the shit out of me? Spank me, hurt me, and humiliate me? Wasn't this the thing I _always_ wanted? Wasn't this the reason I loved James?

Could I even call it love?

 _Fucking whore._

I wasn't sure why it happened. Why tonight was turning into a nightmare, a living hell once again. The only thing I knew at this moment was that I felt ashamed; ashamed of myself and who I had become; a woman with no self-respect or integrity. A hypocrite who was teaching children to not be afraid and follow their dreams while I had given up on mine and let myself go out of fear of not being accepted for who I really was.

For the first time I felt shame for not standing up for myself when I could have. For not fighting for myself, for not fighting when the depression and anxiety had overcome me.

 _Fucking whore._

The sad thing was that now it was too late. I couldn't go back. I didn't have the strength to become myself anymore. I was lost and alone. I was ashamed and weak. I was a whore, a former lover of a married man… I was a nobody. How could I give up on myself so badly?

I put the lamp down, crawled onto the bed and cried for a long time curled into a little ball.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," I repeated my tonight's mantra.

But the deeper I was falling, the more sense it made. I needed to _die_. I needed to _go_. Because this life wasn't making sense anymore.

I might not have wanted to kill myself ten years ago. But I sure as hell wanted to kill myself now. And I would. I knew I would. Soon.

Because I wasn't fine.

Because I wasn't okay.

That night he came again even though I didn't expect him to with all the cards on the table now. There wasn't a mystery anymore; I knew who he was, where he came from and who he loved. But despite that, he came again using night as his disguise, and he felt as surreal and illusory as the other times he had invaded my sleep, even more so when I realized it wasn't only his face or his odd green eyes that I saw. This time I _felt_ his presence when his arms slipped around my torso, _holding me._ I couldn't make out his shape, I couldn't feel his flesh, but he wa _s here_ again. And even if it was only for one night, I relaxed and sank deeper in my unconsciousness knowing he might not come tomorrow. 

_Wednesday, January 30, 2013_ _(five days later)_

I hoped I wasn't late. Squeezing myself in between the closing elevator doors I squeaked bumping into someone.

"Oh! Excuse me! I apologize," I said absent-mindedly to a middle-aged woman who was eying me murderously. I checked the time and prayed they would consider allowing me to see Marcus today. It had been almost two weeks, and I didn't know anything about that boy. Not even that idiot Newton was allowed to give me any information. Fucker Aro. I mean… come on! I was his class-teacher. I had already cursed myself for not asking Dr. Green-Eyes on Friday night for an _intel,_ maybe he knew something. But I was too concerned with _my_ problems and with _my_ unfortunate life to realize that – as much animosity as I was starting to feel towards him - Edward might have been informed about Marcus' condition.

"Kylie," I greeted an arrogant blonde with whom I had been dealing with for the past week. She was working at the reception desk on the floor where Marcus was hospitalized.

"Miss Swan," she smiled feignedly. "To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you here _again_?"

"I think at this point we can skip the pleasantries, don't you think?"

"Then I am afraid I can't help you. _Again_."

I was growing impatient and frantically desperate. "Tell me, is he still here? Has he been discharged? Please, just tell me if he's still in the hospital so I don't keep making a fool out of myself."

Her fake grin widened. "I'm sorry, Miss Swan."

"Look, Kylie," I smirked. "All I'm asking is one piece of inform-"

"Are you Miss Swan?"

I turned around to see where that thunderous voice came from. A nurse, a woman in her fifties was looking at me, her face expression unfathomable. She was a large woman, and I bet she made patients comply when they were running away from her syringe. I knew I would have. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe.

"Hmph," she huffed. "So, are you?"

I snapped back. "Oh, yes. Isabella Swan."

"About time. Come with me," she ordered in a thick authoritative voice, and I didn't think I had much of a choice but to follow her. I caught Kylie's eyes that were wide-open watching the nurse walking in front of me, and I could tell, she was pretty afraid of her herself.

The nurse led me down the corridor and we turned left and right a couple of times. Let me tell you, I felt like it was about to turn into a horror movie as we were passing fewer and fewer people.

"Excuse me," I piped. "Can I, please, know what-"

"Listen, young lady," she turned to me abruptly. "This could get all three of us into big trouble if you keep asking stupid questions. Just be quiet in there. You have fifteen minutes. I'll be waiting here." And with that said, she opened the door where we had stopped. I kept staring at it, still not quite sure what was happening.

"Go ahead! What are you waiting for?" the nurse almost barked at me. I entered the dimly lighted room in which in the middle was a bed surrounded by large monitoring computers, cables and tubes. And in the middle of that bed was laying a tiny lifeless body of a little boy.

"Marcus," I breathed, tears welling in my eyes. "Marcus!"

In a second, I was standing by his side, afraid to even touch him. He looked like he was sleeping, but his facial features were too expressionless for that. No, this boy was still in a coma. The constant beeping sound assured me that his heart beat in regular intervals and a ventilator tube in his mouth made sure he was breathing properly. His head was bandaged, as well as the majority of his body – his ribs, his left arm that was in a cast and I supposed his left leg, too, now hidden under the covers. I still remembered him lying in my arms in the middle of the road, covered in a pool of blood, and as much as I wanted to tell myself that seeing him now would make me feel better, I wasn't entirely sure. Even without any further information, I knew his injuries were pretty bad. I kept returning to the words Edward had told me the other day when we first met, about Marcus and his slow recovery. He managed to calm me down that time, but now the panic was rising in me again, though there wasn't any Dr. Green-Eyes who could calm me this time.

"Hey, Marcus," I tried to smile through my tears, reaching out to touch his little hand. "Hey, buddy, you alright? It's good to see you. Your dad was a bit of an ass about it, but I guess I don't have to explain that to you… I hope you feel better. I haven't been to school myself for the past week, only the last three days and… The kids miss you; especially Felix. He has no one to be naughty with, so he's quite bored. Even Jane has no one to bother anymore, seems like you are her favorite target. But we want you to be back in school as soon as possible, make sure you wake up and get strong again, okay?"

Suddenly, the beeping sound accelerated for a couple of seconds and a wave of terror washed over me thinking something had gone wrong. However, after a couple of seconds it returned to normal. "Whoa, calm down, baby. No pressure, if you don't want to return to school anytime soon. Why would you want to, right?" I smiled at him, my tears slowly drying up. "Take your time, just come back as healthy and as naughty as you like."

I kept staring at him for a couple of more minutes, and the time flew way too fast. Soon, the nurse that had let me in opened the door and I knew it was time to go. I squeezed Marcus' little hand. "Take care, buddy."

When I was outside, I wasn't ready to go home. Yes, I had seen him, but I needed more information. He had been in a coma for two weeks and as much as I wanted to believe Edward's words about him being okay, I was starting to doubt his judgement.

"Excuse me, Mrs., is the boy alright?" I asked the nurse.

"As alright as he can be," she responded cryptically, leading me back to the elevators.

"What does that mean? I need answers otherwise I am going to burst with worry. Why hasn't he woken up yet? What's his prognosis? And how do you know me? Why did you let me in? I mean… not that I am not thankful, but-"

"I told you, Miss Swan – no questions."

"At least, tell me, why did you let me in? This question doesn't concern Marcus' health. Please. I owe you a lot now."

We arrived into the vestibule, and I couldn't help but notice that Kylie was looking at us suspiciously from behind the reception desk.

The nurse turned to me. "As far as you are concerned, Miss Swan, you haven't seen the young boy, is that clear?" I knew what she meant, and I nodded. "And, with regard to your last question… well, let's say you should not thank me nor owe me, Miss Swan."

I frowned. "Who then?"

The nurse sighed, very reluctant to answer my question. "Please? What harm could it do? I won't tell anyone."

Finally, she sighed in defeat. "God knows I've told him this can backfire on us, that this is against the code of practice, but he won't listen to me. Now he owes me big time, that I can assure you."

"But who?"

"Well, who?!" she asked me in return. "Isn't that clear? The young Dr. Cullen came to me on Sunday evening, saying 'Can you do me a favor, nurse Finley?' and I have known this boy for a long time, Miss Swan. There is rarely someone who wouldn't do a favor for him, especially now that he is coming back home and will join us here in the hospital. So, I say 'Sure, Edward, anything you need.' And he grinned at me, you know, in this cheeky way like he does and asks me to let you see the little Volturi boy when you came the next time. And I say, 'Edward, but that Swan woman is not allowed to see him' but he keeps asking and smiling, and God knows how hard it is to say no to him. So, I say 'Okay, Edward, I will keep my eyes open for her, but if this ends up badly, you will be in a big trouble, because Aro Volturi is a powerful man and everyone knows that.'"

Who knew she was so… loquacious. "Sorry, did you say Dr. Cullen?"

"Are you deaf, girl?"

I shook my head. "It's just… we don't really know each other that well. It's surprising."

"He seemed to know _you_ well. Goodbye, Miss Swan."

"Goodbye," I said mesmerized to her retreating figure, trying to answer the question of why the hell would Green-Eyes ask such a risky thing of the nurse Finley. No matter from what angle I looked at the situation, it didn't make any sense for him to help me, especially not after that Friday night, after I had been so rude to him. I didn't ask for his help, so why would he risk his own ass for _me_? All the way home, I kept thinking of that bizarre beautiful not-so-stranger-anymore who was slowly starting to get on my nerves and concluded that his occupation explained it all – as all shrinks, he was simply missing a wheel in his brain.

Though… I couldn't shake the feeling that Edward Cullen not only wasn't missing any but had more wheels than everyone else.

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 **A/N So, let me know what you think, please. It keeps me going when I struggle, when I know that you are reading.**

 **Next update next week.**


	13. This Was My Sharpest Knife

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, the storyline's mine.**

 **WARNING: I'd like to warn everyone who might be potentially disturbed or triggered by Bella's actions in this chapter, involving not only self-harm, but also an upsetting, unhealthy internal dialogue she engages in (well, I should've put this warning at the beginning of all previous chapters then because she is not nice to herself at all). I tried to keep it quite light, without being overly graphic or _too_ depressive - what this fanfic definitely is - but Bella _is_ depressed, so she sees everything in dark colors, losing hope, losing the purpose of her own life. So, those who might be affected, you might want to skip this chapter.**

 **I'd like to thank EdwardsFirstKiss for her super-uber fast edit of this chapter :) I was impressed ;)**

 **BTW, I love the song that accompanies this chapter and you might want to listen to it if you want to get in the mood.**

 **Enjoy. R.**

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13\. Billie Marten - Cursive

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CHAPTER 12

 **This Was My Sharpest Knife**

" _I'd walk the corners  
Of my empty mind  
But I'm full of darkness  
With the loneliest of light."_

" _And I will never be  
I will never be myself  
I will never be  
I will never be too well."_

" _And we'll be fine, there is an end  
It hurts to fall back again  
And we'll be fine, I promise, oh  
It hurts to fall back so low."_

 _Saturday, February 16, 2013_ _(16 days later)_

Boiling drops of water were falling on my back like a waterfall of knives, leaving my skin red and burned; the pain allowed my mind to take a break from the growing frustration, hopelessness and anger that had taken over my life lately in a measure I hadn't been ready for. I let the fire kiss my skin and behind my closed eyelids I focused on the sound of water hitting the shower floor, the sound of my uneven breaths, on the feeling of abstract, intangible nothingness that replaced an ongoing train of thoughts and emotions I had been subjected to for the last couple of weeks. Life was getting the best of me, and even the things that made at least a little bit of sense in this chaos were losing their importance. I didn't even try anymore, to fight my way out of it. All my effort was in vain, because with each day it took more and more energy to stand up to the storm that was way too violent for me. I was losing the battle, and as wretched as it sounds, only death seemed to be the answer.

Now, don't think I didn't think it through. A decision to take your life is not one a person makes on a whim, even though it might seem like it. Quite the contrary, the first time the thought occurs you might seem surprised and feel ridiculous for thinking of committing suicide. But then, when the burden is unbearable again and you suffer and cry and scream, or simply silently swallow the intolerable pain, the thought suddenly doesn't seem so crazy. You start to feel like you have finally found a solution to your suffering, and ironically, the thought of dying and terminating the stream of consciousness is the only thing that makes you hopeful.

The fact that I knew nothing about Marcus didn't help the situation either. Rosalie managed to get some information from Newton, so all I knew was that Marcus had left the hospital this week, after he had woken up from his coma. Thankfully.

"I don't know anymore, Bella," she had said a few days ago, and a crease between her eyes formed. "It looks like he's the son of a political figure, not just Aro Volturi, that's how well they protect every piece of information."

"He might as well be," I sighed. I looked at her, sitting on my kitchen stool. "Rose… I'm afraid," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I feel like… like I could've done something."

"Oh, sweetheart," she cooed as the tears started to fall down my cheeks. She stood up and came to me, taking me into her embrace. "Don't think it's your fault, Bella. You couldn't have done anything in that situation. Besides, what if the accident had happened without your being there, would you still feel guilty?"

I pulled away to look into her face. "Rosalie, I'm not talking about the accident. I'm talking about Aro. Damn it. I knew what an asshole he is, and that his wife has no real interest in Marcus, but I could've prevented-"

"What?" Rosalie cut me off. "The accident? No one could have prevented it, Bella."

"I can't help but feel guilty about it. But I don't know how I would've tackled him beforehand. How can you as a teacher raise a suspicion about child neglect when obviously, from a materialistic point of view, Marcus has everything he needs? But I know that babysitters look after him almost twenty-four seven and he barely sees his mother or father. They don't care about him. I see it every day in class."

"Bella, I'm sure they do, they are his parents."

"That doesn't necessarily mean they love him," I spat back, wiping away the tears from my face.

"Sure they do. I agree with you on the way they are handling his upbringing, but Bella, Aro and Sulpicia are that kind of people – rich, busy, standoffish; they can't spend every minute with their kid. That's how it is and you, Bella, won't change that."

"It can't be like this, Rose. He suffers, I know he does; we talk a lot at school."

Rosalie sighed, the crease on her face disappearing. "We all know just how much you love your students. But that's all they are - your students. The extent of your involvement is sometimes not professional-" I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued ignoring me, "-and as wonderful as it is, you cannot change everything you don't like."

I turned away from her. "The kids shouldn't be hurt. They don't deserve that."

Rose was silent.

"If I can help them, if I can be there for them when they need someone, why shouldn't I do that?"

"Nobody says you shouldn't, but you get yourself involved a bit too much in your students' lives. Parents don't like to be told what they should or shouldn't do regarding their children and their parenting. With Aro and Sulpicia you have done just that time and time again. And, in the end, it is you who ends up hurt." I snorted. "Bella, he might be a prick, but he's still his father. They both feel threatened and you weren't exactly subtle in voicing your opinion about both of them. Of course, he doesn't want you near his son. And with him being a patron of the school, he easily might have had you fired, honey. Mike would rather lose a teacher than money."

I turned to her, angry. "So, what should I do now? Just back off and watch the boy struggle? And don't tell me they feel threatened because the only thing Aro is worried about is his pride."

"Bella, but you can't change them, you can't change the way things are. You can't worry about every student as if they were your own kid."

"But they are! Rosalie, they are! I see them every day for eight hours, I know what bothers them, what makes them laugh, what makes them motivated and engaged, I know who they are. And when I see parents sabotaging their kid, neglecting them, and hurting them, I can't possibly just stand there and do nothing!"

"But they are the parents, and sorry, Bella, but you are not one. Have you ever stopped to think about what that entails?" Rosalie asked with a strange intensive undertone in her voice as if she herself knew better than me. "Being a parent is a full-time job and you can't expect them to be perfect. Yes, you are with the children most of the day, but it is not your job to judge their parents for whatever _you_ think they might have done right or not. Don't expect them to be perfect. It is Not. Your. Job."

I exhaled, my voice weak. "But Rose… How can I _not_ be there for them?"

I heard her sigh again behind me as if she were running out of arguments. "Bella, honey..." and then her hand landed on my back. "If you keep going on like this, you will end up hurt even more than you already have been. I know how hard everything has been on you lately, but I would hate to see you drift away from us even more than you already have."

Guilt found its way to my chest, tightening it intensely. "I'm fine, Rose."

She was silent for a couple of seconds and I heard her shallow breathing. "We really want to believe that, hon, but… are you?"

I shook off her hand from my back and turned to her. "Yes, I am. Now, please, could you go? I'd like to go to bed."

I could see a flinch of pain in her eyes, but she smiled through it and silently nodded, starting towards the door. "You can talk to us, you know that, right?" she asked me before she opened the door.

I followed her and rolled my eyes, hating the fact that she and Alice knew about my depression. "Rosalie, we talked about this. I don't need to talk to anyone."

"Well, I understand if you might not want to talk to us, but my offer still stands, though. I'm sure Emmett knows a good professional who you can talk to-"

I snorted. "Do you mean his shrink friend Edward?"

Her expression hardened. "Don't start again, Bella. The way you acted the other night-"

"I don't care one bit," I said, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me at the thought of Edward. "They are all the same."

She watched me quizzically for a couple of seconds. "So, you were a bitch to him just because he's a shrink?" she stated, not actually asked.

I shrugged. "I don't give a shit about him," I said in the same loathsome tone as before.

I think I spotted despise in her eyes before it morphed into anger. "Now that is really low of you, Bella. To judge a person because of their profession? You know nothing about him."

I begged to differ… I knew he scared and confused the shit out of me. I knew how much his presence irritated me, how naked and vulnerable I felt around him. I knew how it felt to be myself around him - to be broken and lost and how uncomfortable it felt knowing he had seen me this way. I knew how confusing it felt when he was around because it wasn't only calm and safety his presence provided but also the need to push him away and to hide my brokenness from him. But I also knew he couldn't possibly be real. I knew he wasn't anything I had ever seen before. I knew he was the man who had probably risked his job, so I could see Marcus. I knew how it felt when he touched me, letting the warmth of his skin penetrate my own even through my clothes. I knew how he smelled, how every emotion he felt manifested on his face. I knew his laugh sounded like the most soothing sound I had had the pleasure to hear. I knew how it felt when his deep eyes of the strangest green shade found their way to mine, how spellbinding they were once they landed on me. I knew those eyes were reading me, and I didn't want to know what they had already found. I knew how it felt seeing him every night in my vivid dreams, reaching out and holding me just above the lurking dark water I was in great danger of falling into. I knew my hand itched in desire to grab a pencil and sketch that perfectly symmetrical face and those eyes to make them permanent because I was afraid I would lose it all. I knew I would paint him, I would paint that green and that strange red-brown hair he had again and again until I would get those shades right. I knew that my reactions to him were irrational, unreasonable, stupid and utterly illogical given the fact we had seen each other only two times. But most of all, I knew that even though I would probably never see Edward Cullen again, I wished I could catch a glimpse of him at least one more time.

I focused on Rosalie's face again, after what was only a second full of deep reflection, ignoring her comment. "You know what, Rose? Thanks for your oh so generous offer. Your husband already thinks I'm an incurable whore. I wouldn't want him to think I'm crazy on top of it."

Rose rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you Emmett doesn't hate you?"

"Leave it, Rose."

She sighed. "Take care, Bella, okay? And don't forget that you are invited to dinner on Saturday. It's my birthday, and it would be nice to have you there with us."

"Will alcohol be served?" I asked sardonically, though I knew I wouldn't touch it. Something had broken in me the other night when I almost attacked the man I had brought home with me. It was something that had brought out a sense of shame and made me feel grossed out by myself.

She scowled at me but ignored my question. "We'll be waiting. Emmett will be thrilled," she winked at me and I shook my head, though unable not to smile at her myself.

"We'll see about that," I responded. "Now, go, I'm really tired." I shoved her out of my apartment and closed the door, exhaling deeply.

Originally, I wanted to come up with some sort of excuse as to why I couldn't come to her birthday dinner, but after a few lonely nights I had spent planning my leaving this meaningful life, I had realized it would be the last night I'd see Alice and Rosalie; my last chance to say goodbye. So, I gathered my last drops of strength and decided to go, pushing through the dull ache and emptiness I felt in my chest, reminding myself I was _close_ to salvation, _close_ to relief.

I turned off the water and stepped outside into the cold bathroom. I reached for the towel and leaned down to dry my legs from my feet, ankles and shins up to my thighs and hips. Usually I ignored the vertical, horizontal, and diagonal pink marks on my skin of different sizes and shapes. They were there, some of them invisible, almost white, others always rich in their pink color never fading entirely, protruding and bothersome to someone who wasn't used to seeing them. The ones on my belly were not any different, but the ones on my wrists were the worst. Therefore, I always wore long sleeves - if I wasn't having sex, of course - and if the girls had ever picked up on that, they never commented on it. Maybe it was my upcoming re-visit of my old ways that forced me to pay attention to them, why after such a long time, I felt tingling in my left wrist, palm, and fingers.

Yeah, I did not only have an ugly soul, but also an ugly body. It was just about time to get rid of both.

In silence, both around me and in my mind, I put on the clothes I had laid out, and grabbed a bottle of wine that I knew Emmett would enjoy as well as a little box wrapped in shiny paper that was hiding Rosalie's gift. I made my way out, taking my dear red '97 Chevy truck for a ride. It'd been a while since I had last driven it but knowing I wouldn't drink tonight I decided to have one last ride. It had served me well; my first car, my sign of revolt after I had left Charlie's house and broken up with Jacob. I remembered Seth helping me pick it out.

"Holy mother of god, I can't believe Bella Swan is actually on time!" Alice exclaimed after she had opened the door to Rosalie and Emmett's loft, taking me into her arms immediately. Her sweet scent surrounded me, making me feel at ease straightaway. "Oh, I missed you so much!"

"Alice, you saw me yesterday in school," I managed to choke out while her tiny arms were squeezing me with the force of at least two men.

"So? Does it mean I can't miss you?"

She finally released me. "Of course not," I smiled at her tensely. "I missed you, too," I admitted silently.

"Well, well, look at that! Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"What? No, I'm driving."

Her brows jumped up. "Are you now? You've been here for two minutes and you are already full of novelties. Here, let me take this." She said, taking the bottle of wine out of my hands.

"Have _you_ been drinking?" I asked her, while we walked down the hallway to the open space I knew was the living room.

"Not yet," she answered with an impish grin. "But I feel like I should be on my toes tonight and take it easy; I've been feeling a strange vibe ever since I woke up this morning," she added more seriously, frowning.

I snorted. "Let me guess, are you having _a hunch_ about something again?"

She nodded and suddenly looked very frustrated. "Yes, exactly. Though I have no fucking idea what I should be watching out for. It drives me crazy."

I rolled my eyes. "I hope you figure it out."

"Bella, you made it!" Rosalie's face lit up when she saw us enter the living room. Rosalie and Emmett's loft was a large, luxurious place showing how well off they both were. The big open space consisted of the living room, dining area and a little reading corner with a nicely stocked library on the left side. Behind the library, just around the corner was a kitchen, hidden from the sight of visitors. On the opposite side of the loft, there was a huge spiraling staircase leading up to the bathroom and their bedroom. The loft was decorated in a clean and geometric style; silver, white and black colors dominated, fitting nicely with granite bricks that made up a part of the left wall.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything," I lied, while she was hugging me lightly.

She pulled away and raised her brow at my words, knowing just as well as me what bullshit that was. Lately, I had been avoiding everything and everyone, including my girls. I went straight home from school and had even abandoned our usual Wednesday dinners. "Yeah… well, I'm glad you're here."

"This is for you," I said, handing her a little box. "Do me a favor and open it tomorrow, will you?"

She cocked her head slightly to the side, furrowing her brows. "O-okay. But I'll die of curiosity before then," she snickered.

"It's nothing fancy," I said. And I didn't think it was. Just a set of earrings she had been eyeing at Tiffany's a few weeks ago, when she and Alice had persuaded me to join them on their shopping spree. With Rose's wedding coming up, Alice had gone crazy with all the preparations and shopping opportunities. I was fairly certain Rosalie could have afforded the earrings herself, but I wanted her to have them from me since I wouldn't be around for her wedding. They weren't that expensive, but I didn't need the money anymore either way.

"Bella," Emmett rose a glass of wine timidly to greet me in that modest way he always did, giving me an evil eye. Oh, Rosalie was so blind; this man hated my guts. I nodded in his direction in a greeting myself wondering who else was going to join us.

But before I managed to ask, Rose answered my silent query. "I invited some of Emmett's colleagues but since they are _all_ working tonight, it will be only us and the Cullens."

My eyes widened in shock. "Come again?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Edward's wife couldn't make it tonight. I really wanted to meet her," Alice whined when she returned from the kitchen where she had disappeared to earlier. No one seemed to pay attention to my question.

"Yeah, me too," Rosalie agreed, sitting down on the sofa. "Edward speaks with such respect about her. Emmett, love, how long have they been together?"

Emmett joined his fiancée on the sofa. "I'm not sure… I know they got together in Chicago, where he was completing his internship, but I think he knew her from before."

"Have you met her?" Alice asked him.

"Yeah, a couple of times."

"What is she like?" Rose enquired.

Emmett frowned uncomfortably. They both bombarded him with questions a man was not usually bothered thinking about. "Well, it's been some time since I saw her last. She is very… confident, I guess. Well-spoken. Intelligent."

"She's a doctor as well, isn't she?" Alice asked.

Emmett nodded. "A pediatrician. But Tanya's a researcher; she doesn't treat children in a true sense of word."

Rosalie's face lit up with realization. "Oh yes. You told me they were moving here from Chicago because she was recruited here, right?"

"Yeah, they are building a new pediatric research center and she was offered a spot. She's apparently good at what she does."

"Oh my, she sounds so exciting!" Alice concluded with a wide grin, already seeing herself as her new BFF.

"Sounds intimidating to me," I murmured to myself.

"Oh, let me check the roast, it should be done any minute," Rosalie said, standing up and disappearing around the corner.

"So," I cleared my throat. "Where are they? The Cullens?"

"They're on the way," Alice replied with a smirk. "Jasper texted me a few minutes ago that-"

A doorbell interrupted her and in that moment she jumped up, grinning widely. "They're here! I'll open the door," she said, leaving me with Emmett in the living room alone.

Awkward, what can I say?

I was avoiding Emmett's eyes, bracing myself for another encounter with the Cullen brothers. I might have wished to see Edward one more time, but now that my wish was becoming fulfilled, I regretted it. I wanted to spend this night with Rosalie and Alice, to enjoy it as much as I could. I didn't want to be scrutinized by him.

"…we were waiting for you. Dinner should be ready any minute," we heard Alice say as she was coming back. I reluctantly turned their way and saw Alice first, holding a bottle of wine and two boxes of different sizes which I supposed were gifts for Rosalie. Then, two men of the similar height appeared behind her, the blonde one looking longingly after her, the other one carrying a relaxed, crooked smiled on his lips. Damn. I felt his presence in the very deep places inside my bones, making them turn to jelly. They didn't see me standing in the corner as I was out of their view. Emmett stood up and Jasper shook his hand, but Edward gave him a nice hug and they patted each other on the shoulder the way men do. Edward looked much more relaxed than he did two weeks ago at the club.

"Hey, Ed. You alright, man?" Emmett asked him.

"Not bad," Edward replied, standing with his back to me now. "All this running back and forth between Chicago and Seattle is tiring the shit out of me, but everything's running nicely so far, so I can't really complain."

"So, what's wrong with Tanya? Rosie was quite eager to meet her," Emmett said, sipping from his glass of wine.

I thought his shoulders tensed a bit, but his voice was as relaxed as ever. "Well, you know… she's giving up her responsibilities at the Institute, but they still keep her quite occupied, so she couldn't make it this weekend. She apologizes and hopes she sees you as soon as possible."

"Tell her we understand and that it's okay. Katie's alright, I hope."

Who the hell was Katie?

"Yes, she's great," Edward said, and his voice was suddenly so cheerful it made my heart skip a beat. "She's so bright, Emmett, you wouldn't believe it. I just wish I could see her more often, but with the amount of work I have here in Seattle, it's going to be hard."

"Bella, why don't you go and help Rosalie with dinner?" Alice asked me and the whole room turned to me. Jasper must have noticed me before, because his face didn't show any sign of surprise. He and Alice were standing by the windows far away from us, holding hands and whispering in each other's ears. But it was Edward who turned into a statue in front of me the moment his eyes landed on me.

"Bella," he said simply, his face full of surprise. "I didn't expect you to come."

Emmett huffed. "Nobody did." He wouldn't have said that if Rosalie had been in the room, and because she wasn't, I gave him a nasty look.

"You see, I did come, and believe it or not I _wanted_ to come," I lied. The weight of Edward's stare was uncomfortable, but I didn't dare look at him. Instead, I kept my eyes on Emmett whose face was a clear indication that he did _not_ like me. "I'll go and help Rose," I said quickly then, using the task Alice had given me as an excuse to shield myself from the intensity of Edward's presence for as long as I could.

"Hey, Rose, is everything alright?" I asked her when I entered the kitchen, exhaling deeply in relief. "The Cullens have just arrived."

"I heard them. I just needed to prepare the appetizers. Will you take them out, please?"

Reluctantly, I nodded. "Anything else you need help with?"

"Tell Emmett to open the wine, I'll be there in a minute."

I took a large tray with six small appetizer plates to the dining area just beside the living room. Rosalie had prepared the table immaculately, and I felt almost guilty we would spoil it with serving food. After I had placed the little plates on it, I took a deep breath and approached Emmett who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Edward. As I was approaching them, with each step forward, I was becoming more and more aware of Edward's proximity and his green eyes I now felt were watching me.

"…and I swear, never in my life have I met such a whiny patient."

"Emmett?"

He stopped his speech and turned to me, his eyes blazing. "Yes?"

"Rosalie wants you to open the wine. Dinner is being served."

Without a word, he nodded. In that exact moment, Rosalie entered the room and smiled widely. "Hello, Edward, Jasper. It's so good to see you again!" It seemed like both Rosalie and Alice had taken a great liking to the Cullen brothers, though one seemed to take it to a completely different level. Edward kissed her on both cheeks, and with Alice behind his tail, Jasper did the same thing.

"They brought you gifts!" Alice chimed happily, pointing at the boxes she had left on the coffee table.

"Oh, boys, you shouldn't have," Rose said. "But thank you. I'll open them after dinner."

Dinner was delicious, but nobody expected less from Rosalie; she was an amazing cook. I didn't talk much, instead I found myself being an observer tonight, taking it all in. I fake smiled and replied to questions here and there. Alice, sitting beside me, even asked me at some point if I was okay, as it was usually me who was always loud and used the most inappropriate language. Otherwise, the conversation around the table flowed freely and everyone had fun. The constant current of tense energy that had been present between Edward and me the last time was here again. The serenity he always brought with him was there, too. But the tension was much more prominent, winning over the calmness of his personality. During the whole night we basically ignored each other; I didn't dare to address him because I might have ended up insulting him in the process and while it was a tempting opportunity, this was Rose's birthday, my last night with them. Why he didn't talk to me, that I didn't know, but he seemed more relaxed tonight than the last time I'd seen him, not even looking in my direction.

After dessert, I offered to clear the table. Rose protested at first, but I told her it was her birthday and she was supposed to enjoy it without worrying about the dishes. That was partly true, but my intentions weren't entirely selfless. I desperately wanted to catch a break and sort my own thoughts somewhere private.

The others moved to the living room space; I collected all the dishes and brought them into the kitchen, breathing deeply as I felt the heaviness of the evening somewhat lift from my shoulders now that I wasn't in his presence. I swallowed a glass full of ice cold water to quench the heat I felt pulsating in my body and then, very slowly I started to load the dishwasher, not really keen to return back to the others.

Suddenly, the tension overlapped me again, so I stopped in my tracks in the middle of loading the dishwasher and slowly turned around with a plate in my hand, anger rising in me. Anger because he wouldn't leave me alone; because he was dangerous, a shrink, and I was supposed to stay away from him.

"Edward," I greeted him in the same way he had acknowledged my presence earlier this evening. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight?" I asked, my tone sharp.

He was standing by the entrance to the kitchen, leisurely holding a glass of white wine. There he was now, in his black slacks again, looking into my eyes while reading me unapologetically.

"Yes, thank you," he replied politely, and I knew he hadn't overheard the tone of my voice. "Are you?"

I shrugged, rudely turning my back to him, commencing the loading of dishwasher again. "It's just another Rosalie dinner. Nice enough."

I heard steps. "I heard you managed to see Marcus the other day," he said conversationally.

"Yes, I did."

"Nurse Finlay wasn't very pleased with your… persistence," he said, and I thought I heard him smiling.

I knew what he was referring to. After I had been successful at seeing Marcus the one time, I had come to the hospital several times after that, begging nurse Finley to allow me to see Marcus one more time. Unsuccessfully.

Tempted to turn around and roll my eyes at him, I continued placing the forks into their respective place in the dishwasher. "Nurse Finley should mind her own business."

He stopped walking and believe it or not, I could feel him a mere two feet away from my back.

He chuckled. "You understand why it wasn't possible for you to see him again, right?" he asked.

I snorted. "I think this whole charade in keeping me from him is ridiculous," I said, remembering my conversation with Rosalie a few days ago.

"Mr. Volturi doesn't think so."

"Mr. Volturi is one self-centered conceited prick, if you haven't noticed, Dr. Cullen," I retorted, closing the dishwasher and turning to face him again, finding him irritatingly close.

"It wouldn't be very professional of me to think like that," he said quite seriously, but he was grinning impishly as if he enjoyed mocking me.

"Are you saying that my being unprofessional is why I can't see him?"

"That's what you're saying, Miss Swan," he said, leaning against the counter with his hip.

Stupid shrinks and their games. I found myself turning away from him again, cleaning the countertop now. "I know quite well why he doesn't want me to see his son."

"Is that so?" he asked.

I continued to clean, now with much more fervor than before. "Yes. He is not able to admit to himself that he is a rubbish of a father and that his son needs more than just hundreds of toys and video games," I seethed, abusing the already meticulously looking granite countertop. "He fails to understand that a child needs love and understanding; especially Marcus," I breathed, thinking of the poor boy. "He is a difficult child, but that doesn't mean he is bad. He just needs a little more guidance and attention from his parents. Some parents would be surprised what a difference a half-hour conversation can make with their kid in understanding each other. It is a habit that should be developed from early childhood between parents and children," I continued angrily, now unsure what I was angry about, Edward or all parents of the world. "But there are some kids that… that are so lost from such an early age and when I think of all the possible damage that can be done when a child's upbringing is not handled well… Combine it with peer's and society's pressures, parental and educational expectations… I mean, it's so hard to be a kid, and when you can't rely on your parents, who can you rely on?"

Silence took over the room. It felt like seven minutes, not seven seconds, before he replied. "Do you have children, Bella?"

"No," I shook my head and looked up at him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just curious."

"Do you?" I found myself asking, turning to him again. Well, he was married…

Any trace of impishness in his face was gone, and he smiled so beautifully my knees actually wobbled. "Yes. A seven-year old girl."

I watched his face and for a split second I was jealous of that little girl. Not as a woman, but simply as a daughter, whose father's face never looked as in love with his child as Edward's did right now.

"What is her name?"

"Katie." He kept smiling. _Ahh, so that was Katie_.

I nodded, feeling suddenly empty and sad as I usually was when I let myself wander too far away into a past I couldn't change. I turned away from Edward once again and started to fold the napkins.

I wanted him gone. Gone. So, to use the situation, I asked the thing only he could possibly answer. "How is he? Marcus, I mean."

He sighed. "He is going to be fine. He woke from coma last weekend, and now he's at home. All of his injuries are healing, but they think it is going to take a few months for him to recover properly."

I was silent, because none of that information was of any substance.

Edward continued. "He doesn't walk yet, of course, and it will take a few weeks until the casts go away. His head looks good, though. He's fully aware of what happened. He talks and laughs and spends his days in bed playing video games."

I chuckled. "Bet he's enjoying that."

I heard him chuckle, too. "For now, yes. He actually wants to go back to school as soon as possible. He misses it."

My head shot up. "Does he?"

He smiled reassuringly, and now the smile was much more honest. "For now, yes. I don't think it's gonna last once he actually is back at school."

I chuckled sadly again. "No, probably not." The picture of him sitting at his desk was in my mind now. But the picture was all I had, because I wouldn't see him in that desk; I was the one who was not going back to school again. "How do you know all that?"

"Mr. Volturi invited me to dinner a few days ago."

I laughed so abruptly it surprised not only Edward, but also myself. So, that's where _Mr. Volturi_ came from. "Of course, he did."

"Look, Bella-"

"Don't," I cut him off, leaving the napkins be, looking at him. "I get it. Frankly, it doesn't surprise me. _Mr. Volturi,"_ I snorted, "was always very… particular about his company. I bet you are his new best friend now - a hero who saved his precious little son. His legacy. What do you think about his wife? Did she cook? She never struck me as a… how to say it? Domestically gifted type of woman." I gave him a look that basically said _you-really-must-be-an-idiot._

He kept looking at me as if he knew I wasn't finished. There was something different about him tonight. Despite being more relaxed, he also seemed more…I don't know… rude? Cynical? Mocking? Calm as ever, but that much more annoying.

"At least, tell me you enjoyed it. I know I wouldn't have, but we all have different tastes, different ideas about different things…" I leaned closer to him as if I was about to reveal a secret, lowering my voice. "Just make sure you stay on his side now, because I have heard that anyone who voluntary puts themselves into the position of his enemy is just downright stupid. And you seem just like his kind of guy, you don't want to ruin that."

Without allowing him to say anything, I left the kitchen. Lick-ass. That explained why he was defending him, talking about professionalism and all… I bet, now that he was moving back to Seattle, he could use having the big king of Seattle socialite life Aro Volturi on his side. Cullen himself comes from a good family, that was for sure, but being in Volturi's gang… well, why wouldn't he use it to his advantage? He couldn't have planned it better, that car couldn't have hit a better kid… Okay, now I was being outright mean, but damn, this man was my nightmare.

Oh, no, Bella, you thank this man for _not having_ nightmares.

Miserable, I joined the party in the living room, where Rosalie was excitedly opening all of her presents, almost orgasming over the scarf she got from Alice. I tried to smile and focus on them having fun, but I couldn't. This was supposed to be my night with the girls – and Emmett. I was supposed to enjoy this night as much as I could, and not fume over the shrink whose presence made me just utterly pissed off.

"What do you think, Bella?" Rosalie asked me, bringing my attention to the purple scarf.

"Nice," I said, plastering a smile on my face.

"Bella, you sure you want me to open your gift tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, giving her a reassuring smile.

In the meantime, _shrink-slash-lick-ass-slash-inhumanly-beautiful-man_ made his appearance again and I did my best to ignore him; I found a nice place for me to sit and wistfully observed Rose and Alice who in a way had become my family. They giggled and joked, Alice obviously more than smitten by one of the Cullen brothers who I am sure she had already fucked and Rose who I knew was helplessly in love with Emmett and looked forward to her wedding. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I genuinely looked forward to something. Life had gradually become a burden for me and before I realized how bad it had gotten, I was already in way too deep to see a way out.

The only thing that truly was making me feel like the guiltiest person in the world was the fact that I was leaving my two girls this way without being able to say a proper goodbye. As little as I thought of myself, part of me knew it was going to break their hearts and maybe make them even angry. But the guilt wasn't enough to change my mind. At this point, _nothing_ would.

It was strange, how much at peace I was with myself now, despite all the pain.

There were still, however, things I'd like to do – go to Provence in France to get insanely inspired; visit my mom's grave in Phoenix… and paint. Paint at least one last time. There was, of course, no question about what – or rather who - I would paint. I knew I didn't have strong self-reflection skills, but if I had missed such an obvious thing, only then I knew I would consider myself to be a really lost cause. Since I had abandoned painting, I never encountered the urge to paint of such magnitude. Every time I woke from my warmth and green-filled dreams – if it was midnight or dawn - my fingers itched with the need to perpetuate the feelings, the emotions Edward had awoken in me; I felt the energy of life and excitement - feelings so foreign, so freeing, but devastatingly frightening at the same time. The possibility of losing his presence in my dreams only strengthened the need, because I realized it could very easily be the last time I had his face so clearly carved in the front of my mind.

It was so different than what I felt in his presence that it all freakishly confused me and therefore I didn't do anything. After I had woken up from another dream, I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, clenching my fingers into tight fists waiting for the storm raging in my head to pass. A few days ago, when the desire had become too strong to suppress, I had gotten out of bed in the middle of the night and opened the closet knowing I had a couple of small blank canvases somewhere in there _._ When I had finally found them, the realization dawned on me – I was not a painter anymore. Who was I kidding? I had abandoned it and there was no reason for me to get back into it. Even if that reason was Edward Cullen.

"Alice? Can I speak with you for a second?" I came to Alice who was in a heated discussion about something with Jasper. I looked at him apologetically and in return he smirked at me.

"Now?" she asked, smiling, but there was a warning look in her eyes saying _don't-you-fucking-dare-interrupt-this_.

"Yes. Please. I'll be going home soon," I said, ignoring her stare, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Okay. I'll be back," she said to Jasper. There must have been something in my request that made her comply. Alice usually didn't beat around the bush when it came to telling me to fuck off when she was on a get-the-guy mission. Although, I was sure she already had him wrapped around her pinky finger.

"So, what's up? You know I love you, but Jasper's going back to New York tomorrow and I can't waste my time with him. He'll be gone for three weeks!" she said once we were seated in the reading lounge in the corner of the room. We had a nice view of the party from here. I noticed she was unusually coordinated and her speech lacked the incoherency she usually possessed at this time of night whenever alcohol was served. Only was it then I noticed she had a glass of soda in her hands, staying true to her word of taking it easy tonight. Alice was usually the first to get drunk anytime she had a chance and if she didn't drink tonight solely because of _a hunch_ , then she was taking it more seriously than I thought.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," I said simply, and the muscles of my throat constricted.

She frowned. "Already? But it's too soon to go home. We are going to play Cards Against Humanity, you love that game."

I smiled tensely. "I don't feel like playing anything. I've had a long week and I don't feel well; I guess I just need to go home and sleep it off," I lied. I was never a good liar and Alice had been my friend for a couple of years now; she could usually tell when I was talking bullshit.

Her frown deepened, her face turned skeptical. "If you're sure."

I nodded. She waited for me to say more, but instead I hugged her. Despite the sudden nervousness, there was no hesitation in the way my arms enveloped her in a tight embrace. We weren't the type of friends that hugged, but now, I needed her close.

To keep it cool and not make her _too_ suspicious – because I was sure she already sensed something was off – I chuckled. "Take it easy with Jasper, will ya? You don't want him to get too attached."

That worked. She pulled away after she squeezed the shit out of me, her face all giddy again. "I think it's a bit too late for that."

I genuinely smiled at her face expression. I hadn't seen her so taken by someone in a quite some time. "Maybe he has it all," I shrugged. "Knows how to play Monopoly _and_ how to eat fucking cotton candy."

She looked over at him, sighing deeply. "Well, he definitely is a smooth talker."

"Looks like the type."

"But oh-so-sweet and gentle and the sex!" she swooned. "Bella, if you only knew! We have to meet soon, all three of us because I have so much to tell you!"

"Just be careful 'kay?" I asked her, just like she had asked me months ago when I had been swept away by James.

She grinned surreptitiously, tapping her temple with her finger. "Don't you worry, Bella. I have a radar for pricks."

"Don't I know it?" I asked, bittersweetly remembering her warnings about James.

"Oh, Bella, I didn't mean it like that," she frowned. "I'm so sorry about him. I wish he… I wish he hadn't hurt you so much."

I forced out another smile. "I'm over him," I lied because while I didn't want him back, I was definitely still hurting. "

"Well _, I think_ I have a feeling that you will soon forget all about him," she said cheekily.

"Another hunch?" I rolled my eyes.

"Believe it or not, Bella, you _will_ fall in love with someone who will love you back. Madly."

She sounded terrifyingly serious and I laughed dryly at that. Right... Firstly, I wasn't a person who deserved to be loved, let alone be loved _madly_ ; I had made a whore out of myself and who would love the person I had chosen to become? Secondly, even if I found the strength to be myself around someone, I couldn't imagine a man who would willingly step into my life and bear all the ramifications of that decision. Life was hard for me… therefore life would be hard with me, too. As much as I hated to admit it, I _was_ seriously depressed. Jacob couldn't handle me, he didn't know how, and I had ended up being cheated on. After that, I had rather given up on the idea of relationships and love and all that shit, because – honestly? – everyone who mattered walked out of my life. I had chosen sex, physical pain, and alcohol because it numbed the pain I constantly felt in my chest. I had chosen to hide from the world, to hide my true desires, wishes, and dreams because people I cared about never loved me for who I truly was, it always looked like they left me _because_ of how different, how difficult I was.

I had chosen to live a lie, to become the Bella people knew now, the Bella who was loud and rude and who pretended she didn't give a shit, even though she secretly cared too much about everything. But, I guess I couldn't let go of old Bella completely… the sadness, the isolation she had always felt were still within me, no matter who I decided to become.

And thirdly, I knew for sure Alice's _prediction_ was crap, because I wouldn't be around for anyone to fall in love with me. I had already decided to end this nonsensical life I lived. There was no hope for me anymore.

"Trust me," she continued, smirking.

"Whatever," I shrugged. "Take care of yourself, Alice."

"Of course, I will," she answered, puckering her brows quizzically. "I always do."

"I'll go and say a quick goodbye to Rose," I said, standing up.

"Give me a call when you get home," she ordered and stood up, too.

"Sure," I lied.

She had a thoughtful expression on her face and then nodded. "See you on Monday, right?"

"On Monday," I lied again.

"Bella! Alice! Come, we're gonna play Cards Against Humanity!" a slightly drunken Rose called in our direction, and before we started toward her, Alice gave me a strange look which I chose to ignore.

"I'm going home, Rose," I told her when we reached the circle of Emmett, Jasper, Rose, and Edward.

She whined. "Bella, come on! It's my birthday."

Feeling eyes of everyone on me, I felt even more uncomfortable in my lie. I shook my head. "I'm too tired, Rose. It was a great night, but I need to go now."

"The game's not gonna be the same without you," she said in defeat. I couldn't overlook the smug smile on Emmett's face. I bet he thought the opposite, happy to get rid of me so soon.

"I know," I confirmed. "Next time, okay?" I managed to say.

"Okay," she nodded. Then, I hugged her, just like I had Alice, and just like Alice, it took her by surprise, too. "Oh, that's new. And you're not even drunk," she said while I was squeezing her tightly.

I pulled away and shrugged casually. Or, at least I thought it looked casual.

"You sure I can't open your gift tonight, Bella?" she asked.

"One hundred percent sure. Promise me," I told her seriously.

She rolled her eyes. "Promise."

I smiled at how the wine colored her now red cheeks, glad that she was enjoying herself tonight. To Rosalie, this night was everything she needed – she could cook for people she cared about – her Emmett, Alice, the Cullen brothers who obviously in a short time had become a part of our little clique. Edward and Emmett had known each other from god knows when and the girls loved their mature and intelligent company. When at the club, we usually kept to ourselves, and if we allowed guys to join us, it was because Alice or I were going to fuck them that night. And in that case, we didn't really care about their brains. So, I wasn't really surprised. She looked happy, a little tipsy and relaxed. I just hoped Emmett could pull her through the next couple of weeks. Alice was a hurricane and I knew she could overcome what was about to come, but Rosalie was a bit gentler and generally all motherly when it came to both of us.

"Let me walk you out," she said, putting aside her glass of wine.

"Emmett, Jasper," I said in farewell, ignoring Edward deliberately. They both nodded in acknowledgment, and I turned to follow Rose who had already disappeared in the hallway that led to the door. Suddenly, someone grabbed my elbow, and I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know who that someone was. His fingers were going to leave burning marks.

I turned back to him and looked into his eyes directly, shaking his hand off. "What?" I spat.

As much as I tried I couldn't read his eyes. He was searching mine again and I had no idea if he had found what he wanted or not. After a couple of seconds of a staring contest, he shrugged. "Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye, Edward."

When I left the room I saw Rosalie waiting for me by the door.

"Take care, Rose," I said, swallowing hard.

"We'll miss you tonight, hon. Drive carefully."

I looked into her eyes. "Goodnight, Rosalie."

"Goodnight, Bella. See you soon."

Yeah. Sure.

The drive home was quiet. No radio, no songs, no buzzing in my head. Just an uncommon silence taking over my mind. It was a little frightened at how at ease I found myself to be, how sure and – for once – not confused by my choice. I wanted it and I knew I was going to do it tonight. Because that was the plan.

Once I was in the apartment, I switched the lights on not only in the living room but in every room of my apartment – kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, the small closet. Don't ask me why, because I don't know. I think I just felt the need to make myself physically relaxed as I could feel my hands shaking a bit. Strange, how my mentally drained mind couldn't care less about what I was going to do, yet my body somehow sensed the danger and was trying to warn me. As if that would help.

Before I started, I took out my laptop and for one last time, I found my blog I had abandoned it after James had abandoned me. Since then I had felt like shit and to admit my failure online was the last thing I needed. Even now I wasn't ready to go into any details of my life or go into a pathetic rant about the fact that I was going to kill myself in the next thirty minutes. No. I slipped a note into Rosalie's gift that said a few simple words I couldn't say to her tonight. But I wanted to wrap things up on my blog, too, and maybe give the girls more than just an _I'm sorry_ on a piece of paper.

 _Blog n. 70_

 _16_ _th_ _February, 2013_

 _To Alice and Rose._

 _I'm so sorry._

 _I know I have fucked up. Or, at least, you think that I have. But, listen, girls… you always talked on and on about how worried you were about me, how you don't want me to feel down, about how you wanted me to be happy…_

 _Well, guess what? I finally made a decision that made me happy. I made a decision that took me away from the pain and loneliness, from the ongoing buzz in my head that never seemed to stop, from the struggle my life has become in the last couple of months._

 _Please, don't be too sad. I know you are probably quite pissed off, too, but… Don't be too sad for me. I know I am better now. Believe me when I say that._

 _Rose… I'm so sorry I won't be there to see you marry your Emmett. I know how much you love him and even though I have no idea what I did to make him hate me so much, I say only one thing – he is a good man. And he is going to take care of you because in every look he gives you I see how much he loves you. I am so happy for you both. And, please, play some good music at that wedding of yours. You know how much I'd have loved to shake my ass and run away with one of the groomsmen :)_

 _Alice. You crazy little bitch. I have so much to thank you for. You were my first friend in that shithole everyone calls school. And, quite frankly, I wouldn't have been able to survive as long as I have without you. You made me laugh and then you made me angry and then you made me laugh again. And yes, we might have had some quarrels along the way, but I never doubted your good intentions. It was always me who shut you out because you were always right. So fucking right. And I am sorry for that, too. Please, give Marcus a kiss from me. And tell my kids how much I love them and that I am sorry._

 _I love you both. I wish we could have gotten to know each other more, because if we had, then this decision wouldn't be as such a surprise to you as it will be. I tried, I really tried to get over it, but I can't. Please, don't be too mad at me._

 _I love you. I do. And I'm sorry. Oh, god knows I'm sorry._

 _Bella._

It didn't make sense to sign as Romy anymore. Who cared at this point? Besides, it was a personal blog post, and it felt wrong signing it as a person I had once been. Had been, because I didn't feel like her anymore.

No, I definitely didn't feel like her.

I clicked on _post_ and now there was no going back. A few solitary tears found their way out, followed by a few quiet sobs. Before I knew it I was crying, hard and loud. Crying because all pain I had suppressed tonight came out, remembering all the smiles I had faked, all the lies I had told. But I had to. I had no other choice. I went into the kitchen, guided more by memory than by sight marred by the flow of tears. I opened the drawer in which I kept my kitchen knives, reaching for the one I knew was the sharpest. I couldn't take any chances, could I?

Ignoring the shakiness in my hands, I looked around myself, realizing I didn't want to do it in the kitchen. Therefore, I went into my bedroom and sat on the bed, listening to my ragged breathing.

It was coming. I was finally going to end it.

 _Breathe, Bella. Inhale. Exhale._

I was staring at the knife in my shaky hands through the liquid continuously forming in my eyes. But I found myself smiling. Because the relief would come soon. I felt the pain, but it would end soon.

 _Now._

 _Do it, Bella._

 _Do it now._

And I cut my left wrist. Deeply. The blade slowly sunk in and I shrieked in pain, the familiar sensation spreading from the place of the cut, but accompanied by a whole lot more blood running out of my veins crazily. The pain was spreading up my arm like a venom, and with a satisfied smile, I imagined that at the point of reaching the heart, the venom would make it stop. I rested the back of my head on the headboard and felt hot dampness on my stomach where my hand rested. The odor of blood hung in the air, but I was long past the point of getting nauseous. My brain was challenged far more differently. The pain was becoming more pronounced, too uncomfortable to bear. I looked at my cut wrist and if I wasn't so drunk by pain, I would scream in horror. I tried to put the knife into my left hand, the one that was cut, but I had to really focus to hold onto it properly. There was no way I would cut it as well as I did the left one. I should've acted more quickly and cut both at once. But it was too late for that. Now, I just wanted to make it quicker. The physical pain was becoming excruciating, crawling up my arms, making them spasm.

I cut the right one, barely feeling anything, my brain focusing on the much bigger pain in the left wrist. But the cut in the right one was pretty deep, too.

 _Just hold on, Bella._

 _It won't take much longer._

So far, I fought hard to stay above the dark waters. I fought hard not to be taken by them when they called me and tried to lure me in promising the relief I longed after. I tried so hard to find a reason why I could bear the pain and not just give up. But I wasn't strong anymore. I wasn't good enough. Now, I finally let go and let the water take me, screaming, but not fighting because there was nothing in me left that would be strong enough to resist.

I screamed some more and watched – partly in amazement and partly in disgust – how red, hot blood was shooting out of the open wound in my left wrist, making the bed and my clothes red and warm and damp. Very soon, everything blurred together including the sounds. The pain was finally retreating and in a haze of a sudden delusion, I heard a loud _bang-bang-bang._

Was I hallucinating?

 _Bella! Bella… Bella!_

Yes, I was. Hearing one's name was definitely the sign of hallucinating.

When my eyelids started to flutter, I knew the end was coming. I closed my eyes and smiled languidly.

 _BANG!_ Again. I heard it again, but now it sounded more muted, not so intense as if I was finally under the water. Suddenly, I was sinking deep very fast, finally forced to let go, to let the dark consume me and swallow me completely. It was like I was in one of my dreams again, but there were no strong arms this time that would hold me above. For a while, I wondered where he was, but then I realized I was alone. Exactly as I deserved to be.

 _Bella?_

And just as I was feeling the arms of the eternal night to reach out and make me part of it, I was swiftly pulled in the opposite direction.

 _Bella!_

To this day I wonder how I managed to open my eyes. It was only for two seconds but even in my state of being practically unconscious, I managed to ingrain the look in his eyes to my memory so well, I can see it now without any vagueness or unclearness. There were shock and horror. Definitely fear and panic. But also a flicker of anger and resentment.

I couldn't keep my eyes open for long, but the moment I saw the familiar green, I wanted to smile. He had come, after all. It was like in my dream. I didn't know anymore what I was doing in the water and how I got into it in the first place. All that mattered was that he pulled me out and held me again, just right above it.

 _Where have you been?_

And this was the last thing I remember. Because even though he was here, the dark water was still close and he could still change his mind.

* * *

A/N **The 1st of March was a global _Self-Injury Awareness Day_ and I'd like to draw attention to the fact just how many people nowadays are engaging in self-harm and that it is not only about cutting and bleeding, but also about less obvious and more 'socially acceptable' ways of hurting oneself: self-destructive internal dialogue, disruptive eating patterns (eating disorders) or exposing ourselves to excessive consumption of alcohol and drugs...etc. These and many more might be a result of former emotional or physical abuse, a mental health disorder, or simply a result of the pressure the society and social media create on human beings, regardless of gender or sexual identity.**

 **And as we all know - to live in today's world without being negatively affected in one way or another requires a helluva strong mind and a lot of endurance.**

 **Thank you all for maybe stopping to think of how hard it must be for those who are more vulnerable than the rest of us. Even though we might never fully understand, sometimes - in case of depression - a simple "I believe you're struggling." goes a long way.**

 **Phew... that was long :) I hoped that you are not put off by Edward's attitude, but you see Bella wasn't particularly nice to him last time. Don't worry. They will soon find a way to each other :)**

 **Let me know how you feel. What are _your_ thoughts on self-harming and mental health issues?**

 **I'll try to update next week. R.**


	14. This Wasn't Supposed to Happen

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, storyline's mine.**

 **Again, THANKS to my beta EdwardsFirstKiss for an edit :)**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

14\. Portishead - Roads

* * *

CHAPTER 13

 **This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**

" _Storm, in the morning light_ _  
_ _I feel_ _  
_ _No more can I say_ _  
_ _Frozen to myself_ _  
_ _I got nobody on my side_ _  
_ _And surely that ain't right_ _  
_ _And surely that ain't right_ _  
_ _Oh, can't anybody see_ _  
_ _We've got a war to fight_ _  
_ _Never found our way_ _  
_ _Regardless of what they say_ _  
_ _How can it feel, this wrong_ _  
_ _From this moment_ _  
_ _How can it feel, this wrong."_

This was the longest dream I had ever had.

Not that I minded since it had started off as usual - with Edward and his arms wrapped around me, bringing the ease, the comfort, and the safety I had gotten used to far too quickly in the last few weeks. The dark water was still there, but I didn't really paid attention to it this time. Soon, however, the dream shifted from its usual course. At the point when the dream was supposed to finish, and I was to wake up, I started to hear his voice – an unexpected upgrade if I do say so myself. I couldn't make out exactly what he was saying but the voice was unmistakably his, all caress and velvet and serenity. What confused me later, was Dr. Angelic. Seriously? I was trying to enjoy something here. Couldn't the man choose a different dream to appear in? I mean, not physically, because that place all belonged to Edward, but I started to hear his voice, too. Later – to my huge dismay – other voices replaced Edward's completely – even Emmett's - until Edward disappeared completely.

The moment he was gone proved that my dreams were only nightmares in disguise. The voices mutated and grew louder, blurring together. My head started throbbing with pain and my temples were about to burst. Suddenly, I remembered I had a body, because the heaviness that fell upon me was making it difficult to breathe. The water was getting closer and closer and I was about to drown when Edward decided to make his appearance again. It was as if he knew I was drowning, taking my hand, my body, and saying something to my ear.

This dream was nothing like the ones I'd had before, yet I had never felt his presence more. I could see him, feel him, even hear him.

But when the dream ended I didn't wake up.

* * *

 _Monday, February 18, 2013_ _(2 days later)_

If you think it took me time until I realized what had happened, you're wrong. I wish I had been spared the pain for a little while more, wallow in confusion and let myself ask questions first. But no. The moment I opened my eyes and was blinded by bright sterile hospital lights, I knew exactly what had happened.

I had survived.

I immediately started to look for a person to blame and while I was sure there were definitely more names, one stood out from the others. And I don't have to tell you it was the person who – I was now sure – had recently set himself on the quest to destroy my life.

A nurse was by my side within seconds after I woke up, asking me questions I had no intention of answering. All I saw in front of me were his green eyes, wide open and horrified, felt the flexing of his muscles when he picked me up, tugging me to his body closely. It was nice in the dream, but I'd rather have nightmares until the end of my life than to ever see his face in a dream again. Or in life for that matter.

The room buzzed with people and beeping sounds and held no interest for me, but even if I tried I wouldn't be able to focus on anything because now – thanks to Dr. Psycho - I faced a big problem – I was alive, and this was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to be dead, safe and without pain. How… how was I going to live now? What was going to happen? How would I ever manage to go back? And as the reality settled down and more and more questions started to creep into my mind, I felt a big bulge in my throat and silent tears making their way down my face. _This was not supposed to happen, this was not supposed to happen, I should be dead, I should be dead… No, no, no, no…_

"Bella."

This voice I would recognize anywhere – it was gentle, worried but relieved and slightly scolding at the same time now. I was already about to forgive him the scolding part because in many ways this man was like a father to me and he was probably the only human being I was capable receiving a scolding from. I looked up and there he was – in a white coat, looking like an angel that had descended from the heavens, his beautiful face only a snippet older than I remembered. One look at him and another wave of tears spilled over the edge. Because he was so good to me because he wasn't angry for how I had behaved the last time we had seen each other. I didn't deserve any of it.

"Hey, stranger," he said gently, starting towards me slowly. I looked away and let the tears fall because my hands just felt too heavy to lift and wipe the tears. "The nurses tell me you won't talk."

I wouldn't. Because I was angry. And because I should be dead.

"Are you in pain?" he asked. I didn't answer, and he waited while I felt his blazing blue eyes on me. "Bella, honey, I need to know."

"What do you think?" I muttered, my voice hoarse.

He sighed. "Any physical pain?" I shook my head, still looking away from him. "Are you sure?"

I nodded because I wasn't in pain. My head throbbed a little but it wasn't anything I couldn't bear.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Yes. I nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

No. I shook my head.

"We almost lost you, sweetheart," he said, and I looked up at him, concern written on his face. "Had Edward and Alice come one minute later, the repercussions might have been much bigger. Your heart stopped, but we managed to bring you back. Luckily there hasn't been any brain damage. You scared us there a little."

 _Your heart stopped._ Was I really that close?

"Unfortunately, your left hand wasn't that lucky. We tried to do our best, but we weren't able to save it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice an octave higher while I relived Deja vu. I looked down and saw that my left hand was in the cast, the right one wrapped tightly in a bandage. They weren't painful, only very heavy and numb.

"The tissue and nerves in your left hand were previously very seriously damaged, Bella. And I have a suspicion that you haven't been very careful with it for the last couple of years. But by slitting the wrist again, you severed the connections we had tried so hard to repair the last time. We couldn't do anything to make it work again. Of course, we'll know the final extent of your injury after we remove the cast, but because we had to remove parts of damaged nerves, you have lost the feeling in your hand for good. In terms of mobility, we have to wait and see. With patience and the right amount of rehabilitation therapy your hand might be functional as much as sixty percent."

 _What have I done?_

"Don't be afraid, it sounds worse than it actually is."

 _I wasn't supposed to survive. I wasn't supposed to survive._

I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, quiet sobs escaping my mouth while I watched my left hand, the greyish white cast covering my forearm and the tips of my fingers peeking out. I tried to move them but couldn't. It was like I had nothing there. I felt helpless and alone. In surviving, I suddenly didn't have a solution to the thing I called my life and the prospect of living it scared the shit out of me. What was I going to do now?

"Your precious son didn't have to play the hero."

"He's a doctor, Bella, and I dare say it was his knowledge and experience that saved your life."

"He's a shrink," I snorted.

"Medically trained nevertheless."

"You must be so proud of him," I said and through the tears, the sarcasm wasn't quite as effective as it might be.

But Dr. Angelic, always immune to my bitter tongue, only frowned more. "As a matter of fact, I am."

I huffed but didn't say anything. I couldn't stop crying but I really didn't give a shit. I had every reason to cry and mourn my life.

"Bella," he said, his voice gentler now. "I might not know what happened the first time we met or what is going on in your life right now but trust me when I say that you deserve to live a happy and fulfilling life regardless of what you might think. It might not have always been easy for you, but why would you give up so soon?"

The stream of my tears intensified, and I looked away from him.

He sighed. "We'll talk about it later. Now you need to rest. I'll tell the nurse to give you something to sleep."

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"Okay, as you wish," he said, patting my shoulder gently. "I'll be right behind that window," he said and pointed at the glass window in front of me. I couldn't exactly make out what or who was behind it, but I definitely saw people moving around. Only now I could see the room I was in. It was full of different monitors and lights, very sterile. It looked like an ICU. Was I really in the ICU?

"Am I in the ICU?"

Dr. Angelic smirked and nodded. "Only for the time being. After we resuscitated your heart, you were in surgery for your hand. Then we moved you here. You lost a lot of blood, Bella and at that point, anything could have gone wrong. If you feel better this evening, we'll move you to a regular room." When I didn't say anything, he continued. "I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll talk about everything later."

He smiled at me one last time and left. A nurse then came to me and checked my temperature, asked a few more questions that I again refused to answer. When she finally left me alone, I let my body sink deeper into the mattress while I watched the emptiness around me that matched the one inside of me. I never stopped crying and I wasn't sure if I ever would. Everything was too… void. Nonsensical even. Like I wasn't supposed to be here.

I might have spent hours or maybe only minutes like that, lying lifelessly in bed, when a knock on the door woke me up from my thoughtless reverie. I turned my head to the door, but he had already let himself in. Bastard.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped.

He approached me rather hesitantly, shrugging as if he didn't know. He was wearing one of those shapeless, awfully looking, blue hospital shirts and pants. Yet he still managed to pull them off. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

I smiled bitterly. "Fabulous, I'm having one of the best days of my life."

He didn't say anything, but his face hardened. He stopped at the foot of the bed, watching me with a searching look in his eyes again. Fucking idiot. Couldn't he just leave me be and go see his new best friend _Mr. Volturi_?

"You must feel so satisfied with yourself right now. Saving a life - what an accomplishment," I said, just to piss him off.

"I think you forget it was my father who you should give most of the credit for that. I may have stopped you from bleeding out, but he patched you up."

"It must be his favorite pastime – patching me up. I wonder when he will get tired of it."

Edward clenched his jaw. "Don't talk about my father like that. He would do anything to save you." Ouch. That hurt.

"Well, you could've saved him the trouble had you let me bleed out. Did I scream for help? Did I look like I wanted to be saved?"

Something flickered in his expression like he suddenly understood something. Then, his uptight demeanor somewhat lessened and his shoulders relaxed. "Bella, I understand that committing suicide feels like a solution to you, but you are not the first or the last person in this world who has ever felt that way. There are ways-"

"Oh, stop with the shrink crap! You think I haven't heard that before?"

"No, I don't," he said slowly, his palm in the air curled into a fist. He was thinking hard of what to say. "But there is no shame in asking for help when you need it. Be it a professional or personal one. You need to talk more. You need to admit that some things are just way too big for you to handle alone."

And this angered me even more than I was already. Who was he to tell me what kind of problems I had? He knew nothing of what I felt and had to face every day, the pain of losing oneself in a sea of regret and loneliness, of the life one could've had and was never good enough to have in the first place. How could he know? Having a perfect life, and perfect father, how could he know what I had lost and could never get back? And how could I live with all that pain of knowing what could've been had I made different decisions in my life?

"Who are you to decide what I can or cannot handle?" I seethed angrily.

"Isn't your attempt to take your life indication enough?"

"You never had to go through what I have gone through every single day of my entire life! So, don't fucking tell me what I can or cannot handle because after so many years you simply grow tired of waiting for it to get better. It doesn't get better. And it never will."

"Look, I deal with people like you almost every day, and-"

"People like me?" I laugh bitterly.

"Bella, listen-

"No, you listen to me, doctor. You might think you know what I've been through but being a shrink doesn't entitle you to tell people how they feel. And yes, my problems might look ridiculous in your eyes, but they affect me badly, so don't you dare tell me to be patient and work through them with someone. I've been down that route not once or twice but fucking seven times and all of you fucking shrinks are the same! I let them make me feel awful before, but I'm never gonna let them hurt me again. They don't know anything! _You_ don't know anything."

He looked almost hurt when I said that, but he quickly regained his former cold faced expression. He paced a little from one side of the room to the other until he stopped in front of my bed again, resolution visible on his face. "You know what? You are actually right. I don't know anything about you. How many times have we seen each other? Three?" he chuckled dryly. "But what I've seen so far is a cynical woman who is exceptionally rude and vulgar and has no respect for her friends whatsoever. No, I don't know what is wrong in your life and I do trust when you say that you suffer. I don't intend to belittle or trivialize your feelings – for god's sakes, I am a psychiatrist, I should know! But the way you treat the people around you is disrespectful and…" he trailed off, frustratingly running a hand over his face.

"You should've let me die!" I shouted, new tears falling down my face again. Because he was right. And I hated to see the truth after so many years of living a lie. This was what I was so afraid of… of him seeing me. The little person who didn't deserve to live, who wasn't good enough – the person who I've become. "That was all I wanted! And you ruined it! It is all your fault!"

There was something in his face I couldn't read. He was annoyed, that was for sure. Annoyed and frustrated, too, but there was something else in his face, that resembled pain. It looked like I had hurt him again, but I dismissed the thought right away because this man didn't care about me. I couldn't hurt him.

"Then sorry. I apologize for doing everything I could to keep you alive." And there! It was in his voice, too. Almost like a resignation, but an angry one. A resignation full of resentment. This man hated me for even trying to kill myself. Well, I hated him, too. Fucking shrink.

Then the door opened, and Dr. Angelic entered the room. He stopped by his son, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough," he said. As they were standing side by side, I couldn't help but notice how different they were. In height they were more or less the same, Edward was maybe a bit taller than his father, but his shoulders were hunched and stiff, so I couldn't really tell. Also, they were both ridiculously beautiful men, each in his own way. But other than that, I would have never guessed Edward was Dr. Angelic's son. Dr. Angelic was like an angel. His complexion was very fair, almost white, his hair was blond but lacked any golden touch – it was almost platinum. His eyes were like the sky – bright blue but warmed by the sun, always eliciting an idealistic kindness and tenderness. The angles of his face were less defined and more roundish which overall created a very amicable and kind face. If Dr. Angelic represented heaven, Edward was his complete opposite. Not hell, mind you, but Edward was very… earthy. His skin was pale, too, but it was brilliantly balanced by his reddish-brown hair, dark thick eyebrows, and earthly green eyes so piercing that it was almost impossible not to look at them. They were the eyes of a skeptic, of a person who was realistic about all things but _could_ be gentle and kind, too. The shape of his face, nose, and jaw was sharp and angular, so different from his father that for a second, I thought Mrs. Cullen had had an adventure and Dr. Angelic was too naïve to see it.

Yet, despite their outer differences, there was no doubt he was his son. The moment Dr. Angelic had put a hand on Edward's shoulder, he visibly relaxed and the look they exchanged told me they understood each other without words. The moment was short and probably not that significant, but to me, it was intimate and beautiful. Because my father had never looked at me like that. Yes, my friends loved me, but since my mother had died, I had never been loved back in _that_ way. In that… unconditional way. And I was fairly sure I never would be.

"Bella, are you alright?" Dr. Angelic asked, bringing me back.

I nodded.

"Edward, why don't you go into my office?" he asked Edward and he silently nodded, giving me an unfathomable look. When he was finally gone I felt the tension dissipate into thin air, breathing deeply. I looked at Dr. Angelic's face and he looked upset. Not in an angry way, just as if some thought had upset him. Then I realized that he must have seen the entire exchange between me and his son since he was behind the glass. "Bella, Rosalie, and Alice came to see you. You might not want to see them, but I think you could use two friendly faces."

"You're right. I don't want to see them."

"Just for a couple of minutes, I promise. They haven't seen you since Saturday," he said. Only then did I realize I didn't know what day it was.

"It's Monday," Dr. Angelic answered my silent question, smiling faintly, lost in thought. "I'll let them in for fifteen minutes, okay?"

I reluctantly nodded. But fifteen minutes – that I could do.

"Good. I'll let them in."

Dr. Angelic left and three seconds later, Alice and Rosalie stormed into the room, worried expressions on their faces. I wonder what they must have seen – a broken woman with red eyes and cheeks with her hands glued helplessly to a bed. I must have looked pathetic. But as nobody dared to comment on my appearance, neither did they. Alice had launched herself on me with a big fervor, hugging my shoulders tightly, whispering in my ear. "Oh my god! Bella, you're alive! You have no fucking idea how much you scared me! I thought you were dead, I thought we had come too late! Oh my god, I'm so happy! You can't even imagine!" And she pulled away; her big eyes looked at me nervously. Before I could come up with a snappy response, Rosalie grabbed my shoulders and gave me an equally tight hug, but the only thing I heard from her were quiet sobs. She was crying.

"Jesus, Bella, do you have any idea how terrified I was when Alice called me, telling me it was all true? I thought we had lost you, I thought we would never see you again," she sobbed, a handkerchief in her hands.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It was crazy!" Alice replied, her voice high-pitched. "How could you do that to us?" she shouted now, and she looked very angry. "Acting all casual, saying goodbye to us and then going home to kill yourself? Damn! I knew that night, something was wrong, but never in a million fucking years would I have expected you to do such a stupid thing!" All I could manage was to keep looking at them, each on one side of the bed, one crying her eyes out while other was screaming at my face. "Can you imagine our surprise when Rose opened her gift and besides a pair of ridiculously expensive earrings she found a note saying ' _I'm sorry'_?"

"I thought you were just ap-pologizing for the w-way you had been with u-us for the last few weeks, but A-Alice said there was m-more to it," Rosalie said through sobs.

"And I was fucking right! Rose here was too drunk to go with us, so Emmett and Jasper stayed with her. But Edward offered to go with me to check on you, to make sure you were fucking alright! Jeez, thank god I hadn't drunk anything that night! We took my car and I told Edward to check your blog because I had that fucking stupid hunch and for the first time of my life I didn't want it to be true and-"

"What?! Edward knows I have a blog?!" I cut her off. Why did it even bother me? It wasn't like there was anything I minded people knowing about me. Besides school, I was pretty open in advertising my way of life. But somehow, him knowing about it scared me, because… because he was Edward. He could figure things out. He could read more into it than anyone else.

"What does it matter?!" Alice shouted back at me. It was like that with us – when one of us shouted, the other shouted that much louder. Rosalie continued to sob loudly, and the quickening beep of the heart monitor was making this scene look totally absurd. "He read it out loud and - god I have goosebumps just thinking about it – we knew you were about to hurt yourself. And Edward, man, he was brilliant. He immediately got into that super-doctor-focused state kicked your door in like he was some kind of action-movie hero and just ran after you like you weren't a stranger he had just met a few weeks ago! Because Bella, I was so scared when I saw you! You were all covered in blood, your bed sheets, your clothes, even your face and your hair… If he hadn't come with me I don't know what would have happened!" Her voice was getting louder and her eyes even bigger by every sentence she said and I had never seen her like that. "I'll be forever grateful for what he did that night. You looked so dead, but he checked your pulse and said you were still alive, but that we had to take you to the hospital right away. He just tore your bed sheets like it was nothing, wrapping them around your wrists so skillfully and took you in his hands and - holy mother of god, Bella, that man was phenomenal! He was perfectly calm and composed, not like me, I was going totally crazy, I swear – crying, screaming like a complete lunatic. But he? No way! He even drove us to the hospital, while he called his father, Dr. Cullen – who is by the way just as gorgeous as Edward – and several doctors were already waiting for us at the entrance. I have never seen such determination! Can you even imagine how terrifying everything was?!"

"When Alice called me from the hospital, I couldn't believe her," Rosalie repeated, now a bit calmer. "All three of us drove to the hospital only to find Alice crying like a baby, telling us your heart had stopped." And she started to sob again.

"As if we weren't scared enough! Your heart had stopped and then they took you to one of those closed rooms and I wasn't allowed in. Edward went in because, you know, he is a doctor, and his father was there, so of course, he was allowed in. After the longest twenty minutes of my life, Dr. Cullen came out telling us you were alive, but in critical condition. Thank god Jasper was there 'cause I would've collapsed right then and there. Dr. Cullen said they were giving you blood transfusions and that you should be alright."

"Then he told us you needed to have surgery because of your hand, but first they needed to make sure you had enough blood in your body," Rosalie interjected.

"Oh, yes!" said Alice as if she had forgotten that part. "The surgery. After Dr. Cullen went back to you, we waited for Edward to come back, but he never did. Emmett – being a doctor and all – went inside to find out where he was and when he came back, he said Edward had stayed with you during the transfusion, but he didn't say why. Dr. Cullen told us to go home and we went 'cause Rose was just too shaken by everything and Jasper was flying back to New York the next morning, so I went with him. But Bella, I was right back first thing the next morning."

Honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to what she was saying anymore; because I was stuck at the part _he stayed with you during transfusion_ and tried to wrap my mind around it.

"They took you into surgery first thing the next morning. Edward wasn't there, but Dr. Cullen said they did everything they could to save your hand. He said you had a previous injury but that he wouldn't violate your privacy by disclosing what it was. But he said you would live – and god – it was the best news ever!"

"We were here all day yesterday, but you didn't wake up," said Rose. "Dr. Cullen sent us home again and told us the nurses would give us a call when you woke up. He had to go home, too, but I begged Emmett to stay with you until Dr. Cullen came back, because I was so scared."

"Emmett was looking after me?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course," Rosalie answered. "I told you that you were important to him. His friend. Dr. Cullen replaced him this morning and soon he gave us a call that you woke up. We hurried into the hospital and bumped into. Cullen who said Edward was in your room, but that he was going to get him anyway because he needed to talk to him."

"What did you talk about?" Alice asked.

"I hope you weren't rude to him, Bella. He did so much for you," Rosalie added, a scolding look on her face.

And that was the point when I got angry again. "Did he now?"

They were both finally silent. I had no intention of shouting at them for being who they were, but I felt betrayed nevertheless. Why had Rosalie opened her gift and what gave Alice the right to storm into my apartment like the crazy person she really was? They ruined it all. They were in it with him, too. They were all equally guilty, yet I felt the biggest resentment against Edward. And why had he stayed with me during the transfusion? God, that man was confusing. Sometimes he was all kindness, saving me from Aro's claws, making it possible for me to see Marcus, staying with me during transfusion… Then he acted like a total dick, being a know-it-all, shrink-ass making my life miserable. Total Dr. Psycho. Who was supposed to figure that man out?

"Bella, please, be reasonable. We were worried so much! You can't even imagine!" Rose cried again.

"Why did you try to kill yourself, Bella? Why didn't you talk to us, huh?" Alice asked.

"I didn't need to tell you anything."

Alice scrunched up her nose. "Okay, maybe not us. But a professional, maybe? You know Rose offered you Emmett's help…"

"I don't need to talk to anyone," I hissed. "Stop fucking telling me I have problems and treat me like a crazy person just because my life's shit. It is just the way it is and I can't change that, okay? I had figured it out, and you ruined it. You and that fucking shrink ruined it."

"How can you say something like that?" Rosalie asked. "We do you want to die!"

"Do you want me to be happy, Rose? Then you should've let me die," I said, repeating the same thing I had said to Dr. Psycho.

"This is bullshit, Bella," Alice said. "This is not you talking."

"You have no idea who I really am, Alice, so stop _your_ bullshit. You should've never known this about me, anyway."

"Do you mean your severe depression?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's my thing to deal with."

"For god's sakes, Isabella, you are one incredibly stubborn bitch," Alice exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air theatrically. "When will you finally realize that we are on your side? We love you!"

"I know that!" I shouted back at her. "I know that! But you don't know what I have to go through every day!" I cried now. "You don't know! And how could I tell anyone? Every time I did, they just left me! Every time I have shown anyone just how broken I am, they leave! And I never wanted to experience that again. I was always alone and then suddenly I found you and you are the best fucking thing that happened to me, my friends, and I cannot lose you," I sobbed. "That's why you cannot know, that's why you don't know anything about me. Because I am not good. I am not good enough, Alice…" I cried and cried and started to shake. Only then did I feel four strong arms around me. "I am one horrible person."

"Stop it," Alice sobbed, too now.

"We'll never leave you," Rosalie promised but I couldn't trust her. I couldn't allow myself to trust that they wouldn't leave.

We stayed like that for a couple of minutes until a loud knock on the door interrupted us. We broke the hug and Dr. Angelic smiled timidly at us. "You should go, girls, Bella needs her rest."

They silently nodded and kissed me on the cheek. "We'll come back tomorrow," Alice said.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Rose agreed.

"Actually, you can take Bella home tomorrow," Dr. Angelic added.

What? So soon?

"Really?" Alice asked.

"Yes. It is not something I would recommend but if she passes a mental health assessment, she's ready to go."

"What if I don't?" I asked.

He sighed, frowning slightly. "Then, I'm afraid, you will be moved to a mental health institution. Since you attempted suicide, we cannot keep you longer than seventy-two hours. You need a mental health professional to look after you if you're not fit enough to return to your normal life."

"What? Is that how it really works?"

Dr. Angelic looked very uncomfortable, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Will Edward assess me?" And god knows why I asked that question. Trust me. I had no fucking idea why. I guess at that time he seemed like the lesser of two evils. I'd rather take him over any other shrink. No, no he's not. He's the worst. The truth was that I thought I could persuade Edward to let me go home. I knew I was making him uncomfortable just as much as he was making me, and I could basically annoy him to no end. Maybe I could manage to manipulate him in a way. I knew him – I could prepare for him. I could make him so angry and frustrated he would have no choice but to send me home.

He smirked in a way I didn't understand. "No. Edward's not a part of the hospital psychiatric team yet. But you remember Dr. Varner, right?"

Dr. Varner? That psycho idiot who had scared me to death? He was my first psychiatrist when I was hospitalized for the first time and he was the insensitive idiot who wrote that stupid discharge report ten years ago. If he was to assess me, I was done. "Please, no."

Dr. Angelic frowned. "I can ask if there is any other doctor available, but I can't promise anything." I think I started crying again at that point. Actually, I wasn't even sure if I had ever stopped crying in the first place.

The girls said their goodbyes, promising they would come back tomorrow. Dr. Angelic was about to take off home, too, but not before I had been moved to a regular room. Since none of the rooms had a glass window, there was always someone looking after me, sitting in the corner of the room. I felt so humiliated; even more, than I had been ten years ago when the nurse was checking on me every fifteen minutes to see if I was hurting myself. Again, I felt like I wasn't to be trusted like they considered me to be crazy.

But I wasn't. I wasn't crazy.

I cried myself to sleep that night. I felt uncomfortable in bed and I couldn't properly move because my forearms, wrists, and hands were too sore. So, I kept lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling letting the tears flow down my face. When the nurse brought dinner, I refused to eat. I wasn't going to be fed and after a couple of minutes she gave up, muttering something about _it always being the same thing._ Whatever she meant…

There weren't a lot of things I had thought about before I had fallen asleep from exhaustion. My mind was one giant void filled with nothing more than feelings of humiliation, betrayal and an incomprehensible sadness and anger. I was angry with Alice, Rose, Edward, and even Dr. Angelic. But most of all I was angry with myself. I wasn't supposed to survive. This wasn't supposed to happen. I felt a huge unfairness at the situation, and immensely helpless at the same time because now I couldn't do anything to amend it. I couldn't attempt to kill myself again now because it wouldn't work. If I was going to be able to try it again, I had better make sure I passed the assessment tomorrow. Only then I would be able to think about it again, and this time, I would come up with a plan that would work.

Because I couldn't keep on living. My life was a lie. I wasn't myself and never would be. So why torture myself anymore? I couldn't… I couldn't stand the pain. It was too much, and it would never, _never_ get better.

* * *

 _Wednesday, February 20, 2013_

I looked at her and prayed that what she had just said was only a by-product of a nightmare. Because this – I knew – was very much real. "What?!"

"I'm sorry, honey!" Rose said as she sat down beside me on the sofa. "I'm sorry we couldn't keep it a secret, but Mike insists."

"What if I refuse?"

"He's going to fire you."

Was he serious?! "He can't do that!"

"Oh, he can," Alice said, and I looked over at her. She was sitting in an armchair, sipping a cosmo. "I'm actually surprised he hadn't done it the second we told him."

"He also said that you should be lucky he didn't tell Aro. Because if _that_ were to happen, there would be no ultimatum," Rose added.

It wasn't an ultimatum. It was a fucking punishment. But I wanted to go back to school. At least until I could figure out what to do next. To attempt to kill myself again was temporarily out the window. I didn't know why, but I didn't feel like doing it, I was way too exhausted to deal with the consequences again if it didn't work. Besides, if that were the case, they would put me in a mental health hospital without any assessment. Only then I would be desperate. No, at least until I regained the trust of Rose and Alice, I decided to play nice and meanwhile think of something cleverer than slitting my wrists. Because they were watching me like I was their kid.

"Rose… I can't. I can't do it."

"But, Bella, wasn't that one of the conditions under which they discharged you from the hospital?"

"Yeah, but… they always have these stupid conditions. No one really cares afterward."

"Well, we care," Rose said adamantly. "You need to find a psychiatrist, Bella. Otherwise, Mike won't let you teach and he'll fire you." Oh right. The ultimatum.

"But I don't want anyone! How many times do I have to tell you that they won't help me? They don't understand! I don't need them!"

"Bella, stop being irrational," Alice chimed in, putting another empty glass of cosmo on the table. "Do you want Mike to fire you? Because he wouldn't hesitate."

"No!"

"So?"

I sighed, placing my head on the back of the sofa resignedly. "I-I'm not sure I'd be able to do that," I admitted. I was sure I would get a panic attack the moment I entered a shrink's office.

I felt Rose's and on my knee. "I'm sure you would. Don't give up without trying."

"Rose, I have already tried!" I said. When the girls had brought me home yesterday after the assessment I told them a little about my fear of shrinks. I only told them that I already had an experience with them and it had never helped. I hadn't told them about the self-harming and I wasn't sure if I ever would. The assessment I had yesterday wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. Luckily, Dr. Angelic made sure Dr. Varner wasn't available and I met with a young psychiatrist who apparently was doing her internship at the hospital. I think she was more scared of me than I was of her. She said she had never met a suicidal patient before with such a long history of depression. I tried to pretend like she hadn't said that and answered her questions with as much sanity as I could muster. In reality, I was sitting on the edge of the chair, ready to shoot towards the door any minute had she asked a totally stupid question. But it was over quickly, and after the consultation with one of the doctors, she came to tell me they'd discharge me if I found a psychiatrist and finally started to treat my depression. Plus, I had to agree to take medications. Proper antidepressants.

How useless if I do say so myself.

"But maybe… maybe you would benefit from treatment if the doctor was someone you already know," Rose said apprehensively.

"Huh?"

"You tell her," Alice said, but not to me. She was looking at Rose, smirking wickedly.

I straightened myself on the sofa. Rose took a deep breath, turning to me. "You know, I was thinking… And Emmett was thinking, too. Maybe… maybe you need someone who you know personally, who you can relate to."

"I cannot relate to shrinks. They fucking think they know everything."

"But they are human beings, too. Me, Emmett and Alice-"

"Don't include me in this charade," Alice interjected, sipping another cosmo. Where did she get it?

"You're not helping, Alice," Rosalie hissed in her direction, but then turned to me with a creepy smile. "You see, me and Emmett… we think it would be better for you to see a professional who you can trust and who you know outside of their office."

"That's funny, Rose. I don't know any shrinks. Not that I would allow anyone to invade my personal space," I chuckled dryly, but looking at Rosalie's face, I knew something was off.

And then it hit.

And then. _It. Hit._

"You must be fucking kidding me?!" I shouted, springing up on my knees like an arrow. "No fucking way! Never in my entire life!"

"Bella, please, just listen to me first, okay?"

"I'm not letting him into my fucking head! Are you crazy? You chose him out of everyone? He's the worst!"

"I told you," Alice chuckled, but we both ignored her.

Rosalie stood up. "Just listen to me, hon. It was Emmett's idea-"

"Of course," I muttered.

"And I didn't like it at first because I know you don't like Edward. But you don't like _any_ psychiatrist. And while you may not have the best relationship with him, it still isn't as bad as it could be from what I've heard," she said, and I had to admit it was true. Did I hate him? Yes. But we could still hold a conversation without me running away from him. "And you know him as our friend. You know about his personal life, that he has a wife, a daughter, that he is moving back to Seattle from Chicago… you know he is just like us and that he has his own problems."

"Does he?" I asked sarcastically. "Self-absorbed jerk. He's just like everyone else."

"Bella, Jesus, listen to me. Em and me, we both think he could help you. He is one of the best in the States and he has taken a real interest in your case."

"WHAT?!" I think my eyes just fell out. "HE'S SEEN MY FILE?!"

"No!" she said quickly. "Of course not! But Emmett talked to him and when he suggested that you to be his first patient, Edward was all for it. It seems like he really wants to help you."

"Oh, so he's just running after patients now? Yeah, his intentions are completely altruistic, I see."

"Christ, Bella, do you listen to yourself? We both think he can be the one to help you. He has loads of experience with serious depression, he is perfect for it."

"Please, don't tell me that shit. How old is he? Thirty? He's probably like that little intern who assessed me yesterday. What experience can he have?"

"He's thirty-five," said Alice apathetically.

"What?!"

"Bella, it doesn't matter how old he is. What matters is that he might be able to help you," Rosalie said.

"And isn't the whole I-know-him-personally and he-knows-me-personally thing a little unorthodox? Isn't that a conflict of interest? I hate him, Rose. I really do. And I am fairly sure he doesn't like me either. Doesn't that put us in a rather complicated position? How can he stay impartial?"

"He is a professional! He knows how to do his job and if he believes that he is able to help you, I have no doubt he would be able to separate his feelings from his job."

"You talk about him as if he is some sort of god."

"He _did_ save your life!"

"That doesn't mean he deserves any special treatment from me!" I shouted now. "It's not like I wanted to be saved! But Alice and you both see him as one hell of a hero, don't you?!"

"It is a fucking suggestion, Bella! It's either Edward or some other doctor who I am sure you won't be less opposed to than him. And I advise you to think about it, because I really think he will be good for you. I know, and I believe that some of your experiences with previous psychiatrists might not have been great, but you have to start somewhere! You can't deny the fact that Edward is _good_ at what he does. He is a very rational human being and he would never see more into your diagnosis than there really is. Besides, the trust is built, you cannot rush it! Especially in your position. So, stop whining and make a decision, because the last thing I want is for you to lose your job and fall into this dipshit even more! It hurts like hell when we see you like that!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "We're all on your side, so give yourself a fucking chance for once. He is a good shot. Think about it."

And with that, she kissed both Alice and me roughly on the cheek, grabbed her purse and left Alice's apartment. I felt my heart loudly beating in my chest and was on the verge of crying. It was so quiet that I heard Alice sipping her cosmo.

"Well, that was interesting," she said.

I turned to her, my hands shaky. My left one was practically useless, the right one was still bandaged, and I was supposed to go to the hospital every day for re-binding of the wound. Today it was Alice who went with me. Then we went to her place where Rose had joined us, bringing dinner. It would have been quite a pleasant evening had she not started that whole _Newton-school-firing-shrink-Edward_ crap.

Ultimatum… fucking blackmailing.

"Alice, why are you drinking tonight?"

"Because, my Bella, tonight I need it."

I didn't ask why. "You think it's a bullshit, too, don't you? The whole Edward thing."

"No," she shook her head. "No, I don't."

I squinted my eyes at her. Her attention belonged to her cosmo only, but she seemed like she was listening to me. "But you just said…"

"That I don't want to be involved. Not that I think it's bullshit."

I sighed desperately. "I don't get it, Alice."

Then, she slowly looked at me from behind her glass, her eyes glassy from the consumption of alcohol, but still inexplicably clear with wisdom. And they were looking directly into mine. "You don't. And for quite some time you won't. Hell, I'm not sure if I get it. But you," she pointed a finger at my chest, "are going to change him. And he is going to change you. BOOM!" she threw her arms wide, spilling red cocktail in the floor. "It will be a huge thing, Bella. Massive. It will be like two stars colliding, changing the space around them, the constellations, planets, everything. But it will be disastrous, too. Because coming out of the collision, none of you will be the same."

I was staring at her in, silent horror on my face. While I had no freakin' idea what she was talking about, her words sent shivers down my spine and I couldn't mock her for her pathetic outburst.

"But you both need it," she continued. "You both need to fall in order to rise."

* * *

A/N **Anyone? Any thoughts?**


	15. This Was a New Brainwashing Technique

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. Storyline's mine :)**

 **Also, I'd like to say that I am no medical professional in a psychiatric field and that the therapy sessions between Bella and Edward will be a complete work of my imagination. I'd try to stick to reality as much as possible, getting to know how it works as much as I can, but I'm sure that might be mistakes along the way. I apologize in advance.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you a lot for your advice and help!**

 **And thank you all who reviewed!**

 **Now... Enjoy. R.**

* * *

15\. Johannes Bornlof - Liberations

* * *

14\. CHAPTER

 **This Was a New Brainwashing Technique**

 _Thursday, February 21, 2013_

After I put Alice to sleep, ignoring her protesting cries, I got my bed ready in her guest room. The girls had both taken a week-long holiday off from work just because of me. I was surprised they had gotten away with it, but Newton seemed to not only be pissed off, but also freaked out when he heard about my suicide attempt. So, he let both girls have a week off and now they were on my tail almost twenty-four seven. Rosalie spent the first night with me at my apartment, and then Alice came in the morning replacing Rose who then went to negotiate with Newton about my place at school. Fucking idiot. I still couldn't believe he put me in this position. Though I must admit his condition made perfect sense, Newton didn't realize just how much of a problem that might be for me. I had managed to avoid shrinks for last ten years, so why would I give up now?

But the truth was that Rose and Alice had been bugging me about it since I'd left the hospital and they wouldn't stop until I had one. It annoyed me to no end and I could swear and be grumpy all I wanted, but they never left my side, and their mouths never shut. It seemed like I had no other choice but to find myself a shrink. At least for now. I would bear it. I would endure the torture. Later everyone would see that it hadn't helped and they would stop pressuring me, and leave me alone. I would still get to teach at school and later, maybe when I had their trust, I could attempt to kill myself again.

Yeah, maybe this was what I should do. I had better find someone stupid. Someone new in the profession. Or...

Was I really considering Rose's suggestion?

I mean… I wasn't really. Please... But… _If_ Edward were my shrink - god, only the thought of it made me shiver with dread- I could annoy him to the point of resignation. I knew he didn't like me. Yes, he was annoying too, but at this point, every shrink would be. Soon, it would be him who would give up, because he wouldn't be able to stand me. He might be professional - I didn't doubt that - but not with me. He had almost lost it in the hospital, I could remember his annoyed face while he was pacing from one side of the room to the other with eyes that were digging holes into mine.

It _wasn't_ such a bad idea. And as I had said earlier - I knew him personally. At least to a certain extent. If needed, I could use it against him. Rosalie thought it would help me to connect with him easily, but I had no intention of connecting with him at all. I didn't even consider it to be possible.

Could it really work?

Nah. Too risky. Rosalie said he was good at his job and if he really was, he might end up pushing me into a corner and making me panic. And the last thing I wanted was for him to see me having a panic attack. If he didn't think I was crazy - which I was sure he did - this would only prove that I was. And I wasn't, crazy that is.

Besides, there was a strange emptiness inside of me. As if I couldn't properly feel anything. As if nothing mattered anymore, but not in a devastating and painful way. As if even this nothingness was just another thing that didn't matter. It felt like I was drained of all feelings and emotions. Even the pain, both emotional and physical, exhausted me to the point where they didn't matter anymore.

I stared at the ceiling the whole night. I hadn't slept well yesterday, and I wasn't sleeping well tonight either. Not only was my head buzzing with thoughts and various plans as to how to avoid having to be in therapy, but I couldn't really move in bed either because of my hands. They were fucking painful and aside from taking antidepressants, I was constantly on the highest dosage of painkillers. So yes, my nights were peachy.

I woke up before Alice – naturally - finding myself standing in front of a fridge, trying to bend the fingers of my right hand in a way that would allow me to open it, but not strain the hand too much. I wasn't successful. I couldn't even pour myself a cup of water, for god's sakes. In many ways, I was highly dependent on Alice and Rose.

This reminded me that today I couldn't avoid taking a shower. But I figured I'd take a bath. I'd manage to do it alone – just turn the tap on and let the bathtub filled with hot water. I'd have to wrap the cast and bandage in plastic wrap or something because I couldn't get them wet. I can tell you all these limitations were driving me crazy.

So I as I sat down on Alice's leather sofa, I secretly envied her. She knew I loved it. I turned the TV on and was mindlessly watching SpongeBob when an hour later, Alice stumbled into the living room, her hand in her hair, looking around as if she didn't recognize her own apartment. It took her quite a while until she noticed me, her eyes widening with recognition.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I said, chuckling slightly. This Alice I could handle. She was hung over and practically useless for anything. It seemed like today I could do as I pleased.

She groaned loudly and fell noisily beside me on the couch, her head on the back with her hand covering her eyes. "Mornin'."

"Lovely morning, isn't it?"

"Shut up. Why did you let me drink?" she asked.

"It's not like we could stop you. You said, quoting, _tonight I need it."_

"Crap."

And then, remembering last night, there was also something else. "Alice, what was that scary collision thing you mentioned about yesterday?"

She turned her head to me, a corner of her eye peeking out and looking at me. "What collision thing?"

"You don't remember?"

She was silent for a few seconds. "No."

"You do."

"No, I don't," she said, turning away. "I don't remember much."

I was wondering if I should press her to admit that she did remember, but then I realized that it didn't matter. I couldn't care less about her random ramblings. It was weird, yes, but lately Alice was into everything supernatural, so we always let these things slide. It was Alice, after all.

"I need to take pills," I said to her.

"So?"

I was silent.

"Oh, Jesus, Bella, sorry; Rosalie's so much better at this than me," she mumbled, standing up. She went into the kitchen and brought me my pills and a glass of water with a pink drinking straw. Now, tell me – wasn't it just ridiculous? I took my four pills just like I had done religiously for the last few days wishing I could get rid of them soon.

"What time do you want to go to the hospital?" she asked when she sat back beside me. I needed my right hand to be rebound again today.

"Never."

She rolled her eyes. "Bella."

"What? If it was up to me, I would never go there again."

"I'm being serious."

I sighed. "I don't care... When you sober up?"

"I am sober!"

I smirked. "Right. I'm gonna fill myself a bathtub."

"Good luck." I heard her say.

"I don't need your help." I stood up, going into the bathroom. Alice had a really nice apartment. And leather sofa. Her bathtub was also nice, big and comfortable, and even though I struggled with the tap for a few minutes and cursed like a sailor, I managed to turn it on all by myself. Great. It was all about baby steps… Until I had to wrap my hands and wrists in wrap, wash my hair and put shower gel on my body. Fuck.

"Alice?"

Soon, I heard steps from behind the door. "Yeees?"

Smug little imp… "Alice, I need help."

"Do you?"

"Alice, I'm not gonna beg you."

"I think you should."

"Alice!"

"Okay, okay. What do you need?"

"I need you to wrap my hands. And to at least put shampoo on my head," I grumbled, totally embarrassed. The extent to which I was dependent was more embarrassing for me than being naked in front of her.

I heard her chuckle. "Okay, baby. I'll be there in a sec."

And so Alice helped me wash. I tried to do as much as I could myself, but I could still barely bend the fingers of my right hand. Dr. Angelic hadn't said that the right one was damaged, but it sure felt like it. The wound on it was pretty serious though. He said it wasn't deep enough to damage any muscles or nerves, but it hurt like crazy and it would take time to heal. After the bath, Alice let me dress myself or what I insisted on doing alone. There had to be something I could do even if it took three times longer than it normally would. When I came into the kitchen, Alice was standing by the stove in an apron and a spatula in her hand. She was making pancakes.

"Hmm, nice," I said, sitting down on the kitchen stool."

"Don't get excited. It's not like I know what I'm doing."

I chuckled. On our girls' Wednesdays, Alice never cooked. She didn't know how, always ordering pizza or Chinese food. "You're a lost cause."

"Not yet," she said and turned to me, a look of determination on her face. "I need to learn how to cook. Jasper loves food. And women who can cook."

"So, that's why you're making pancakes! And I thought you wanted to make me feel better."

"That's a bonus."

"Oh, by the way, what is going on between you guys?"

Her face lit up. "We've never gotten to it, have we?"

I shook my head. "Spill it, sister."

"So!" she started, sitting beside me, making big gestures with the spatula. "I am totally in love!"

"What?"

"You heard it. I am in love with Jasper. He's the perfect man, Bella. Sexy, intelligent, funny and _so_ good in bed. Bella, he is the guy that has _everything_. He is my Mr. Darcy, my Mr. Rochester, my Edward Ferrars, my… he's my Emmett!"

"Okay, stop!" I said, my big white hands still wrapped in plastic wrap shooting up. "You've known him for how long? A month?"

"So what? You don't need ages to know that you love someone."

"Relationships like this are sentenced to death from the very beginning."

She raised her brow. "What are you saying?"

"Come on, Alice. I knew James for months before I realized I loved him. And I was blind. And stupid. Don't make the same mistake as I did."

"But I'm not. Jasper isn't James. And – no offense – but I'm not you. I simply _know_ he is the one."

I pretended like her comment didn't hurt. "There is no _the one_."

"You're saying that now." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

I only sighed. "This is crazy."

"No, it's not. It's perfect."

I folded my hands under my breasts. "What does Jasper think about it all?"

"He loves me back, of course," she said as if it was already obvious.

I did my best not to roll my eyes. "Alice, I don't think-"

"Stop it, Bella, please. I know your skepticism arises from the many times you were betrayed by men, but this is real."

I sighed deeply. "Okay. I won't say a word. What does Rose think about it?"

"She was making fun of me at first, but she just wants me to be happy. And she loves Jasper."

"Of course, she does." I still couldn't get over the girls' admiration of the Cullen brothers.

"You don't? I mean, I know about Edward but..."

"No, of course I have no problem with Jasper," I said. And I really didn't. But I felt slightly intimidated by the fact that he attended the school I had been accepted to ten years ago and now worked in one of the galleries I had hoped my paintings would be exhibited in. So yeah, I was a little bit jealous.

"Talking about Jasper, you'll stay with me tonight and Rose will pick you up tomorrow morning. Jasper's coming to town this weekend, we're gonna spend it together," she said excitedly, winking at me.

"Nobody needs to pick me up. I can still walk."

Alice rolled her eyes, pointing a spatula at me. "No arguments." She stood up and returned to the stove, placing a pan on it. A few minutes later I was witness to a reckless murder of a whole pancake batch that burned and stuck to the pan. Had my hands been okay, I would've saved them, but my handicap meant a dead sentence for them. Instead of pancakes, we had pop-tarts for breakfast.

Alice took a shower; I unwrapped my hands and then we drove to the hospital. By the time we arrived, I was very grumpy. Alice had completely forgotten about my existence and ignored my sarcastic commentary on the ridiculousness of having to be babysat all the time. Luckily, a reception lady told us that Dr. Angelic was in today, so it wouldn't be _such_ torture to be here. We hadn't talked properly the last time though I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what he thought of me now.

We waited for only ten minutes or so until a nurse called me into an examination room. Shockingly, it was Brenda, a nurse who I remembered was Dr. Angelic's nurse during the time I had been his patient. Some things didn't change.

"Bella! We haven't seen you in a long time!" she said, smiling, after I closed the door behind me. "Dr. Cullen is expecting you. Go, go!" And she ushered me towards another set of doors by my left hand. I opened the door with my elbow and was greeted with the sight of Dr. Angelic sitting behind his desk.

He looked up and smiled widely, making me blush. This man had an ability to make me feel uncomfortable and relaxed at the same time. I felt like he was on my side, yet at the same time I didn't feel like I could let my guard down with him because he saw right through me.

"Hello, Bella."

"Hi," I said inaudibly.

"How have you been?"

I shrugged. "Good."

"Your hands?"

"What do you think? I can't even wash myself properly," I grunted.

"It's just a temporary phase. Soon, you'll start therapy and the movements won't be so painful. You'll need some adjusting, of course, since we don't know exactly how much your right hand is going to compensate for the left one, but you will be alright." He stood up and moved towards the examination table. "Lie down, please."

I silently obliged. He moved a small table on wheels towards us. It had several shelves, filled with various tools, aseptic gauzes, bandages, syringes, little bottles with liquids… You know. Scary as fuck.

He sat down on the chair beside the table, quietly removing the bandage from my right hand. "Have you been taking your pills?"

"Which ones?" The antidepressants or painkillers?

"Both."

"Yes," I sighed. Then he looked up at me as if he didn't know if he should trust me or not. "I swear, I have!"

"I believe you, you know that. I'm just worried."

"There is nothing to be worried about. I'm fine." Then I felt the pressure lessen and cold air on my right wrist as Dr. Angelic removed the bandage. I didn't even dare to look at the wound. I still had stitches in it, by the way.

"Have you decided on what psychiatrist are you going to choose? Has the hospital offered you someone?"

"Yeah, they did."

"And?"

"Nothing," I said, and he stopped working on my hand. I looked at him. "What?"

"You need to get help, Bella."

"I'm fine."

"Sweetheart, this time you won't get away with this." I knew this tone. It was a fatherly tone, scolding me, warning me. And as much as I didn't like it, there was a part of me that wanted desperately to oblige. Because he cared. He cared for me and I didn't deserve it. I wanted to make him happy, maybe even proud of me.

But despite all those feelings, the fear was stronger. "Nobody can help me."

"That's not true," he said, returning to his work. "It is you who has to take the first step. It looks like you don't want to get better."

"I know I won't get better. It's a fact."

"You're not even trying."

"I'm tired of trying. Ouch," I hissed the moment I felt a burning on my skin.

"It's just disinfectant." There was a silence then; an awkward silence. "You know, Bella, I know professionals who might be able to help you. We can work something out together. Besides, I'm sure Alice and Rosalie are looking into it as well. You have many options."

"That I have," I said, sighing, remembering Rosalie's ridiculous idea. "Did you know your awesome son has offered himself to be my therapist?"

Dr. Angelic's movements on my right hand stopped for a few seconds. Then, ever so slowly, I felt the bandage being wrapped around my hand again. "Has he?"

"Yeah," I snorted. Then I looked at his face and saw him frowning. "Rosalie's so excited about it. She' says that he's a great choice because I know him, and I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable with him. She thinks he'll be able to help me," I snorted again.

He didn't say anything. Instead, his frown deepened, his eyes not meeting mine. He secured the bandage in its place and turned away from me, not saying a word. "You don't agree with her," I said. It wasn't a question.

Dr. Angelic turned to me, still frowning. "I think he would be able to help you."

There was something in his voice, something he wasn't saying. "But?"

He chuckled dryly. "But I don't think it is a good idea."

"What? Having Edward as my shrink?"

"Exactly," he said, putting away his tools.

I lift myself up on my elbows. "But you just said you think he would be able to help me."

"That doesn't mean I have to agree with him being your psychiatrist, Bella."

I didn't understand. What was more, I didn't understand why I cared. "Why?"

He sighed. "Edward is one of the best specialists in this area. And I'm not saying it just because he is my son." Sure. "He truly is excellent, and if the circumstances were different, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend him as your first choice. I have no doubts about him being able to help you, Bella. But…" he trailed off, thinking of something, challenged in a way I didn't understand. "Bella, I don't think he's your fit. Medically speaking."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember how I told you that a patient and a doctor – especially in a mental health field - have to click together in order to make the most out o therapy?"

I nodded. "You think he's not my fit?"

"Not exactly. This you can find out only by yourselves. But… you have a history together. While Rosalie might think it is good that you know each other, I don't think it would be such a good idea to mix professional and private lives together. It's a conflict of interest. You both have…strong feelings against each other. You are both too affected by the presence of one another. I saw it in the hospital room. And while it would be mainly his job to forget about it, would you be able to forget that he saved your life when you wanted to die?" he asked. "It is your choice, after all. Maybe I'm wrong and you would be able to relax around him. It is up to you."

"I didn't want him, anyway," I said, thinking of his words. I sit up and let my legs hang down from the table.

He sighed. "Don't let my words influence you, Bella. It was just my opinion that doesn't have to correspond with your preferences and feelings. If you genuinely think he would be a good option… You shouldn't take anything I've just said into consideration when making your decision."

I didn't know yet what my decision would be and if I was going to make one. But Dr. Angelic pointed out something I knew was true, although seeing it as something bad was not how I felt about it. Neither did I view it as something positive. What we felt towards each other, Edward and me wasn't anything nice or pleasant. But it was a rather satisfying feeling to know that we weren't impartial towards one another, that we acknowledged each other's presence, even if it was in a hateful way. Somehow, I felt like I needed to be acknowledged by him in whatever way he chose.

Dr. Angelic told me he would be in the hospital tomorrow as well. He handed me a new prescription, and said that these pills should be more effective, and I shouldn't be in so much pain. When I left the room, Alice was waiting for me, playing with her smartphone.

"Done?" she asked when she saw me.

"Done."

We went for a lunch and then to Alice's place again. I didn't want to go to my apartment. I had spent the first night there after being released from the hospital with Rosalie and while there wasn't any evidence of blood or anything else to indicate what had happened on Saturday, I still felt a little uncomfortable being there. The girls didn't say anything, but I knew they must have cleaned everything up while I was still in the hospital.

On Friday morning, Rosalie came to pick me up. It was the first time I had seen her since we had had our little confrontation on Wednesday, but she seemed to be okay. Neither of us brought it up, and that was fine by me. I wasn't angry with her, I knew she only wanted to help, but could you blame me for my reaction? She had freaked the shit out of me. We left excited Alice in her apartment, knowing that she was about to pick up Jasper at the airport quite soon. The same as yesterday, we had gone to the hospital where my hand received a new bandage, and afterward for a quick lunch. We stopped at a few shops along the way since Rosalie needed to look at a few things for her wedding. All the time, she kept repeating: "I' only have three months, I only have three months!"

Plenty of time in my humble opinion.

It was Saturday evening when the devil possessed me. Emmett was working a thirty-six-hour shift, so we had the condo to ourselves. We were watching _When Harry Met Sally, and_ I was putting popcorn into my mouth piece-by-piece when I suddenly looked at Rose who was smiling absent-mindedly at the screen.

"Rose?" I whispered.

"Mhm?"

"Rose, I think I know."

"Mhm?"

"I think I know who I want."

She finally gave me a side glance. "What?"

"I think I know who I want my shrink to be."

That got her attention. She paused the movie and turned to me, squinting her eyes. "If this is some kind of a joke, Bella, leave it, because Harry's now going to run after Sally, and I know just how much you love to interrupt this moment."

She was right. I loved to make her angry by initiating conversations during her favorite scenes in her favorite rom-coms. She was a real sucker for a nice romantic movie. Not really my cup of tea. But this interruption was purely coincidental since I felt like I had just had an epiphany. Or… that devil possession.

"I'm not joking."

She sighed, but I saw she was excited. Of course, she was. Both Alice and she thought they would have to drag me to see a shrink, not that I would go willingly, let alone choose someone myself. But to be honest, I had thought so, too… Until now.

I knew I wanted to go back to school. I needed to go back to school. I missed my kids. Besides, I didn't need to give Newton and Stanley a reason to think I was crazy by not being able to handle this shit. And without a shrink there was no way they would let me return. Furthermore, I had decided it would serve me better if I was a good girl and stop being stubborn for now at least. I could regain the trust of people around me more if I acted sensible. And this looked like a sensible decision to make. What had Dr. Angelic said? That it was me who had to take the first step? Well, I knew I wasn't taking it because I still believed that being in therapy was completely useless. But if I made _them_ think I was taking the first step, I was on my way of being out of their babysitting clutches sooner than later.

"So, who is it? Did you find someone on the internet? Is it someone from the hospital? I knew Dr. Cullen would find someone good for you, he is so generous and kind."

"No."

She frowned. "What no?"

"No. I didn't find anyone on the internet and no, it isn't anyone from the hospital."

"Who is it then?"

And I couldn't believe my own ears when I said it. "Edward. I've chosen Edward."

 _Tuesday, February 26, 2013_ _(3 days later)_

Rosalie was ecstatic, to say the least. When I told Alice over the phone, I was met with a thirty-second silence.

"Alice? You there?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"Nothing, Bella. I knew you would want him."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want him." He was a necessary evil I hoped I would be able to manipulate.

"Whatever. You know we love you, right?"

I frowned. "Of course, I do. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Bella. Just… I know it's going to be hard for you. The therapy. So, whenever you feel like it's too much, just let us know, okay?"

I nodded to myself. "Sure."

"Do you know when's your first appointment?"

"Yes. Rosalie called him on Sunday and he said we can start on Tuesday. He has a private practice somewhere in downtown Seattle. I'm just glad I don't have to go to the hospital."

"Jasper told me Edward's just rented that place."

"I don't really care. As long as I survive an hour in his presence, I'll be happy."

"Do you know how often are you going to see each other?"

"Not yet. I hope not too often."

"Just listen to him, okay? I know it's difficult between you, but…" she trailed off and was silent for a couple of more seconds. "Take it easy. Don't kill him."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Busted."

She laughed. "Please, reconsider. I love his brother."

"Okay, maybe not on our first meeting. I'll do it a week later."

She laughed, but I couldn't make myself. I wasn't even sure if I knew how to laugh anymore.

"Come to my place on Tuesday evening. I'll make dinner."

"Please no!"

"You don't want to come?" she asked, hurt.

I chuckled again. "Yes, I do. Just don't make dinner."

"I don't know why I love you."

"You can't help yourself."

I heard her smiling. "Yeah, that's right. See ya, Bella."

"See ya."

So, here I was. Edward's private practice was located in one of the older buildings in downtown Seattle. It was a very nice building, historically rich, looking more like a townhouse than a complex of several offices in the center of the city. A lady behind a reception desk knew exactly who I was going to see the moment I said his name even though I expected her not to since Alice told me he was new to the building. Seemed like he had already made an impression… Jerk.

I wasn't particularly nervous. It was more like… an apprehension that I felt. I hadn't been in therapy for ten years, and even though a lot of things might have changed since then I was ready to no to let him get under my skin. It was just another crazy psychopathic shrink who was looking for glitches in people's brains even if there weren't any. I could totally do that. I could totally make him go crazy. He wouldn't be able to stand me and I knew it. I just had to find what buttons to push.

I exited the elevator on the top floor of the seven-story building. There were only two doors in the corridor, and the one on the right had two metal plaques on it. The bigger one said: _Psychiatric private practice._ The smaller one said: _Edward Cullen M.D._ And under the name was: _Psychiatrist_.

I shivered. God, this was suddenly so real. Had I said I wasn't nervous? Well, now I think I was. _Should I go? Yeah, I'd better go… I'm not sure I'm ready for this… No, Bella, no. Just breathe. It's only that prick, Cullen. You can handle him._

I timidly reached out towards the door and knocked with my right hand. No one answered. I knocked again, a bit louder. Nothing again.

 _You see, Bella? No one's in. You can go home._

Could I? I knocked again, my heart in my throat and when no one answered, I turned toward the elevator. I was about to push the button to call it when I heard a door open and felt my heart stop.

"Bella?"

His voice hadn't changed one bit. Yes, if I managed to fall asleep, I could still see him – that hadn't changed - but his voice didn't appear in those dreams again as it had in the dream I had had in the hospital a week ago. I turned to face him and there he stood, in the door, his eyes studying me questioningly. He was wearing black slacks and a white shirt with the first two buttons opened. His office must have faced the south, because a rare Seattle sun had found its way there while setting down, the light coming from behind him made his hair shine with a new palette of colors. "Edward."

"Please, come in," he said, opening the door fully, motioning me to follow him. I stepped into the room which looked like a waiting room, with a reception desk, a large clock on the wall, two couches with a small table between them, plants, and even pictures on the wall. The only problem was that it looked too empty. There was no receptionist behind the desk and no patients sitting on the sofas.

"I still haven't opened the practice, but I didn't think you would mind. It will be just the two of us for the first couple of weeks. I have my first patients scheduled in the beginning of April," he explained, leading me through the waiting room towards the door in the corner.

"You could've scheduled me for the beginning of April too." I wouldn't have minded.

"I wanted to, originally. But Rose said the headmaster at your school is pressuring you, and since you are an urgent case, I didn't see any reason why we couldn't start sooner. Please, after you." Polite. Always polite. It reminded me of that night he had driven me home from the hospital… Jeez, it felt like ages ago.

He opened the door to his office and let me go inside first. He seemed like he was a little nervous himself.

"A case, huh?" I snorted, reacting to him referring to me as his case.

He didn't answer. He closed the door behind us and I looked around. It was a nice and inviting looking space. There was a window behind Edward's dark brown desk, a library stacked with books made of the same type of wood. Opposite the library there was a fireplace and an empty mantelpiece. By my right hand, there was a sofa and an armchair and I knew I was about to sit down on it. Or lie down. God knew how it worked these days.

I swallowed hard. "So? When does the torture begin?"

"Let me go through some paperwork first. Have a seat." He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. I took my coat off and sat down. I watched him type something into his laptop and realized that so far he was being fucking professional. His usually expressive face didn't show any sign of emotion and I was starting to think I had made a huge mistake. Maybe I had underestimated him. Oh my god, could you imagine the damage he could do if I wasn't able to watch myself? What things could he discover, what pain he could make me feel if he opened that Pandora box of mine?

I started to breathe shallowly, and clutched the edges of the chair, hissing in pain when I curled my fingers too much.

"Are you okay?" His eyes shot at me.

"Yeah, I'm just… my hands are in pain."

His eyes widened slightly as if he hadn't realized that before. "Do you want some painkillers? I have-"

"No," I interrupted him. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

His concerned face annoyed me. "Yeah, I'm sure. Your dad feeds me Vicodin. Happy days."

He frowned. Hallelujah! This was the first emotional reaction I had gotten out of him. Suddenly, I remembered the way he had reacted in the hospital when I mentioned his father in a rather disrespectful manner. Hmm… Maybe it wouldn't go that badly after all. See? I have discovered his first weak spot. And it made total sense that it would be his father.

And for the record, it wasn't Vicodin. Could you imagine Dr. Angelic prescribing a suicidal patient an addictive drug? I just wanted to make Edward feel a little uncomfortable.

"Okay. But, please, let me know if you need anything." I shrugged. He returned to his laptop and then handed me a few papers. "Could you, please sign these papers?" It was a regular agreement between a patient and a doctor regarding the acceptance of the medical help provided and that all information was protected, etc. You know the drill. I signed the papers and after I handed them back to him, he signed them as well.

"Have you ever been treated by a psychiatrist?" he asked me in an aloof voice while still looking at the laptop. Didn't he know these things? But it was only then I realized Dr. Angelic wouldn't have told him anything. He couldn't.

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Ten years."

"Can you tell me their name?"

And then I grinned. "Do you need just the last one or all seven?"

He looked at me and even though his face hadn't changed, it took a moment until he nodded sharply in a 'yes'. So, I recited the seven names of the people who all had made my life even more miserable than it already had been.

"Have you ever been on psychotropic drugs?"

"You mean alcohol? Yes. Frequently. I find it very effective."

"I meant medication. Psychotropic medication normally prescribed by psychiatrists, such as antidepressants, anxiolytics or mood stabilizers." He didn't even flinch, bastard.

I sighed. "For a while, ten years ago, I was taking antidepressants. But I stopped taking them. I don't remember the name."

"Have you been prescribed any antidepressants now?"

I nodded. "Yes. Two." I told him their names. I knew one of them was similar to Prozac, and that I would have to take it for a long period of time to help. The second one was only temporary, something strong and helped prevent suicidal thoughts. If you asked me it was all shit. It was all full of shit.

"Was this your first suicide attempt?"

Something in me hurt when he put it as direct as that. I mean, yes, I thought about killing myself all the time, of what I'd done wrong or what I would do next. But hearing it like that, as if it was a simple truth that everyone around me knew, was making me feel vulnerable. I simply nodded.

"Do you live alone?"

What? "What are these questions?"

"An initial assessment," he said, looking at me calmly.

"Why do you need to know this?"

"I need to know in what environment you live, if you have a partner, what your job is and how these things might potentially affect you. It's pretty basic."

"You know those things."

"I still need to ask. I am your doctor now and you are my patient."

It was making sense, but if I felt violated, god knew what I was about to face. "Yes. I live alone."

"Are you married?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Have a partner?"

"No."

"Any children?"

God… "No."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a second-grade teacher at a private elementary school in downtown Seattle."

He typed all of the information into his laptop and I wished I could just disappear. "Now I need a contact for your next of kin."

"What for?"

"In case of an emergency."

I snorted. "Like if I attacked you?" He ignored my poor attempt at making him feel off balance. "Please. What kind of emergency can we have here?"

"It's medical practice. I need that information."

I sighed. "I don't have any next of kin." He raised his brows. "Okay, okay. Put Rosalie down."

He typed some more in silence. No questions anymore. Then, he stopped and looked at me, putting his forearms on the desk, clasping his fingers together. "Since I know you attempted suicide a week and a half ago and are on medication, I suggest we meet two times a week for the first four weeks. This way I will be able to monitor you and see your progress in terms of how the medication affects you. If at any time during this period you feel any kind of internal urge to hurt yourself, we can arrange an urgent appointment immediately. There is no shame in admitting that you feel like hurting yourself."

"I'm fine, Edward."

"And also… I would like you to address me as Dr. Cullen while we are in the office-"

I chuckled. "You don't strike me as the type who would tell a woman to call him _Doctor Cullen_ ," I said suggestively.

He clenched his jaw. "-and I will address you as Miss Swan. This way we can keep things strictly professional."

"Tell me, Edward. Why do you want to treat me?" He was looking at me and when I said his name, something flashed in his eyes. Not anger, but definitely a slight flash of irritation. He was good… But I was better.

"Your question is irrelevant."

"Not to me," I said. "Is it because you need to chase your patients? Because you don't have enough of them?"

"I don't need to chase my patients." His voice was rigid. I was getting to him.

"Ahh, you say that now. Maybe you're not as good as everyone says. Well, I'll have a first-hand experience, won't I? And I'll be able to compare you to my previous psychiatrists. Wouldn't that just be amazing – to have feedback from your first patient who has a lot of experience with mental health specialists?"

I was on the strike and while he was watching me, searching again in my eyes, looking for something, I felt like a winner. Suddenly, he leaned back in his chair, his face devoid of emotion again. "Do you often use sarcasm as a way to defend yourself and protect your true feelings?"

Whoa. My face froze, and I felt my brows coming together in a frown. "Sarcasm is my middle name. I don't use it for anything."

"Why don't you sit down so we can start? We have a long way to go."

I did as I was told, moving onto the leather sofa that looked as comfortable as Alice's. Maybe even more so, but I would never consciously admit it to myself. He took a clipboard from his desk with several papers on it and a pen, sitting down in the armchair. I allowed myself to exhale a shaky breath and look at him. He was looking at his clipboard, brows furrowed in concentration as he was writing something down. He looked very natural in this position as if he was meant to do this. He was fairly calm so far, but the tension between us was undeniable. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. The last time I was in this position I had experienced a panic attack and I had attacked my shrink.

"Relax, Miss Swan," he said in a deep voice as if he knew my thoughts. It was a velvet caress and suddenly it acquired this calming quality he possessed naturally, and I knew it was the way he spoke to patients. He already spoke like that to me in the hospital, kneeling in front of me when I was crying because of Marcus. The only difference between those two pictures was that he didn't guard himself, his eyes searching, just like now, but were open wide and his face showed a set of various emotions.

"So… Is there something specific you'd like to talk about? A place where you'd like to begin?"

I looked at him. "Are we really starting with such a cliché?"

"Yes."

I sighed. "No. There isn't."

He wrote something down. "Let's then start at the end. You attempted suicide a week ago." Oh my god, could he stop fucking repeating that? "Why?"

"Is that your question? Seriously?"

"Yes."

I snorted, and he didn't comment. "I was in pain."

"Define pain."

"Well, there are many different types of pain. Pain a l'ail, pain au froment, pain baguette… Although I personally prefer pain au chocolat. Very buttery in texture, almost like a croissant. But it really depends on-"

"Miss Swan, I wasn't asking you to name all the different types of French bread."

"Really? That's a shame, 'cause we could finally say that we found a common interest. Damnit."

He was quiet for a while. "Do you like to talk about food?"

What type of question was that? "Yes," I answered cautiously. "Who doesn't?"

"Let's talk about food then."

What the _motherfucking_ hell?! I gave him a quizzical look. "Do you want to switch places, doc?"

"No. Lie back down." I rolled my eyes but humored him. "Do you like French cuisine?"

God, was he really asking that question? Or, maybe it was some kind of secret technique… _Fuck. What should I say now? Breathe, Bella. Maybe he really wants to talk about food and it means nothing at all. Just calm down._ "It's alright. But I prefer Italian."

"Pasta or pizza?"

Jeez, maybe it was one of those quizzes like _: Choose your favorite food and we tell you who you are._ Oh my… The shrinks were really brainwashing us. "Pasta." Pizza, always pizza. "You?"

He eyed me for a few seconds before he answered warily. I guess he wasn't used to being asked questions. "Pizza." And then, when I had finally calmed down and looked up at the ceiling again, he asked: "If you had a bad day, what would be your comfort food?"

"I don't have a comfort food."

"Everyone has a comfort food."

"Not me," I shook my head.

"So, what provides you with comfort when you feel down?"

I shrugged. "Alcohol, usually. You know… drinking 'til you can't stand straight. And sex. Yeah, usually the combination of both."

And only then I realized what I had just said. _What I had just said_.

"How often do you drink?"

"Very subtle, nice." And I even gave him a little theatrical clapping with my cast and bandaged hands. Very pathetic.

"What?"

"Don't pretend like you…" I trailed off, groaning. "I don't drink anymore."

"Why?"

"Makes me do stupid things."

"Like what?"

"None of your business."

He was writing something down now. "Do you have a favorite drink?"

"Vodka. You?"

He took a while before answering, but not as long as the first time. "Red wine."

"Nice," I nodded in agreement. Red wine was nice. I liked it myself.

"Any favorite cocktail?"

I thought for a minute before answering. God knew where he was going with this now. "Martini. Bone dry."

"Interesting choice."

I shrugged, all smug. I knew my way around alcohol. "It's a classic. And effective. Though sometimes, a proper zombie is required. Alice loves cosmos. Doesn't really work for me, but that girl is able to get drunk on practically anything."

"Zombie…?"

"A cocktail. A mix of rum, absinthe and falernum. Gives you hangover like no tomorrow. But tequila's pretty awful, too."

"Do you like hangovers?"

"No. Not really, who does?"

"Then why would you drink a zombie?"

I shrugged again. "To get myself wasted more quickly."

He was silent for a while. "What about Rosalie? What is her favorite cocktail?"

"She is a wine girl through and through. She isn't really into mixed drinks. But I cannot say I blame her. These days you rarely find a good bartender."

"So, do you have a club you visit often? A place you know you can order something and it will be served the way it should?"

"Of course, we do. You remember that bar we met in a couple of weeks ago? That's it. There are a few others we frequent as well, but that one is our favorite."

"You said you don't drink anymore. Do you still go there?"

"No, not really."

"So," his voice slowed down, "if you don't feel okay and you don't drink, what do you do? You still haven't found your comfort food?"

I chuckled, my tone sardonic. "No. I just lie in my bed and read a book and try to forget. But it doesn't really help. I usually cry myself to sleep. Or I don't cry. Depends on the day I've had. If Aro Volturi makes me furious, then I usually cry."

"Don't you have someone to talk to about those feelings?"

I sighed. "No."

"What about your friends?"

"They wouldn't understand."

"How do you know?"

I looked at him. "I know. I've been there before."

"Where?"

"In the place where people don't understand."

He was quiet again and in silence, I heard only a tip of the pen sliding down a paper. "Did those people betray your trust?"

I didn't reply. Instead, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I looked away while Edward was waiting and waiting until I heard him say: "I think they did."

I looked over at him again, saw his deep greens searching in my browns. The way he looked at me, so sympathetically and with understanding, made me sick. I didn't need his pity. What could he know about betrayal? He had a perfect life. The darkness that got lost in emptiness I cherished in last few days started to creep in again when I remembered those people. Pain shot unexpected through my chest, tightening my trachea. _Thanks a lot, Dr. Cullen. This, indeed, feels like help._

A sudden urge in my voice was hard to overhear. "I want to go home."

He looked at his wristwatch, confused. "We still have ten more minutes."

I sat up. "I don't care. I want to go."

He sighed, eying me quizzically. "Alright, Miss Swan. As you wish."

I stood up, put my coat on and moved towards the door in three sudden long movements. The need to disappear was sudden, instinctual. When I felt the tips of his fingers on my elbow, my breath hitched, and I stopped in my tracks. I turned to him. "Bella, are you okay?"

The concern in his voice was devastating. I swallowed, but my mouth was dry. "I'm fine."

"See you on Thursday, right?"

Magnetized by his eyes, I nodded, even though it was the last thing I desired. "Right."

* * *

A/N **So, tell me. What do you think?**


	16. This Forgotten Sound

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the whole thing. I like to think I own the storyline.**

 **There were some questions asked by some of the guest reviewers this week and I'd like to answer them.**

 ** So, will there be an Edward's POV? **

**Honestly, I'm not planning to post a chapter from EPOV in this story, purely because this is Bella's story and I believe it's her place to tell it. BUT! What I really want to do is to post this story separately told from Edward's POV because I believe his reasons for some of his decisions or reasons for saying certain things might not be completely explained in this story and I'd like you to guys maybe later look into his head and see how he felt in certain situations. Because I think that in a way, he had a lot of difficult decisions to make and a lot of difficult emotions to process. So, if everything goes well, you'll get the whole story from Edward's POV. Lovely, lovely, lovely!**

 **It's almost too depressing now. Is it going to be turning around soon? In the next few chapters?**

 **Ahmmm... Yes. And no. It is going to turn around at some point, don't worry about that. It's going to go slow, of course. I'm not a big fan of _I hate you now and love you right in the next chapter thing_. But the whole story vibe is not going to change that much I'm afraid. This is the story of a girl who is continuously sad and in pain. It is going to get worse at first, but then things will go better and better, and I can't wait when those chapters will come where there will be a lot of exploration, experimentation, laughter, happiness, fluff, lemons and eventually love. So... be patient with me, please. I know I have to be with myself, because I just want them to be together already. But for them to be in a relationship I need them to be in, they need to go through some things first.**

 **Love you all and thanks A LOT for your reviews, I cherish and read all of them.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, you're fantastic. Thanks a lot again.**

 **Now, finally...**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

16\. Simon and Garfunkel – Sound of Silence

* * *

CHAPTER 15

 **This Forgotten Sound**

" _Hello darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains  
Within the sound of silence."_

" _In restless dreams I walked alone  
Narrow streets of cobblestone  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
I turned my collar to the cold and damp  
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the sound of silence."_

 _Monday, March 4, 2013_ _(6 days later)_

The man tugged on my hand making me hiss. It wasn't because of the pain per se as I couldn't feel any there, but that didn't mean that I was immune to feeling strains and pulls and other strange things that I was gradually getting used to having. It was weird how I could detect those sensations as my whole forearm was sealed off by a hard greyish cast. They weren't, however, any similar to what I had been used to feeling before. These weren't tingling or slight burning sensations. These sensations were much duller in nature, not as palpable, but they were definitely there. I roughly remembered where the cut was located, but even if I hadn't there was no doubt about where it was because the cut was the place where all of these odd things originated, crawling uncomfortably down my wrist, palm and fingers while the pain I felt went upwards. I could move peeking tips of my fingers - or better said - I tried to move them, but it required super-concentration. It was like I wanted to move them, but the command itself registered with the brain three seconds later, and the movement was only a third of what I wanted its range of motion to be, sometimes not even that. It put me in even bigger misery than I already was.

I looked away when the man grabbed a special saw intended to remove casts. I didn't need to look at this. The moment he turned it on, I heard its buzzing sound and without a warning felt vibrations on the top of my forearm and tickling that continued down as he moved the saw in the same direction. It wasn't painful, but the moment he passed the spot of the wound, it was as if he entered a different world, the tickling diminishing immediately, leaving me only with the feeling of my hand being moved up and down as he was slowly uncovering my arm, removing the bits of the cast. I could feel how light it felt with the case gone, but not feeling didn't mean I didn't know how heavy the cast was as it had been my muscles that were responsible for carrying it.

"All done," the cast technician said, turning the saw off. I didn't want to look down at it, but I could barely avoid it. My gaze travelled instinctively down and at first, the sight made me nauseous and I had to look away only to turn and take a glimpse of it again. This time I didn't avert my eyes from it and forced myself to look at it properly. The first thing I saw was a fairly long, narrow scar with stitches still in it, protruding and clearly visible. I swallowed the bile coming up in my throat. The scar was red and the skin around it had a reddish tint to it as well. It was bigger and longer than the one on my right hand. The places that had been previously covered with the cast were scattered with fine white flakes – dead cells coming off of my skin. My forearm, wrist and hand were also covered in white patches from the cast, making it look dirty. I lifted my forearm and when I saw my wrist helplessly dangling as if it were dead, my eyes welled with tears. I tried to move my fingers as I had tried before, but nothing happened. Dr. Angelic had been wrong. I not only felt nothing, but I couldn't move it either. They should've cut my hand off completely. What use did I have for it now? It really was dead. Useless. Just like me.

"A nurse will be with you shortly," the cast technician said timidly, bringing me back. Raising my head, I saw pity in his eyes while he was looking at my hand. When he noticed I was looking at him, he turned away from me and left the room. He was lucky he had escaped from an upcoming tantrum I would've thrown had he not stopped looking at me like I was some kind of charity case. Fucking idiot.

I let my hand drop and wiped my tears away with my right hand which was already stitches and bandage-free. In a minute, the door opened, and Brenda came in. "Ready?"

I nodded even though I wasn't. I jumped down from the table I was sitting on and followed Brenda to the room where Dr. Angelic and his team performed MR angiography and a CAT scan of my hand. He removed the stitches and examined it after that, then let a physiotherapist look at it. I waited for approximately twenty minutes for Brenda to come and collect me again from the waiting room I was sitting and actually talk to Dr. Angelic about this unfortunate situation I had put myself in.

"So?" I asked when the door closed. "Did you finally decide that it would be better if you had just cut it off?"

He scowled at me. "No, there was no need for that."

With a raised eyebrow I lifted my forearm again, as I did before, showing off my dead hand hanging in the air. "I think you should return your medical degree. This is not going to work again." And to emphasize my point - maybe a little theatrically - I started to move my forearm up and down swiftly, making my wrist and hand swing in different directions, looking limp and lifeless.

"Bella, stop! Do you want me to put your hand in a cast again?" he said right away, putting his hand on my forearm gently.

"So that was the reason I had to wear a cast for two weeks?"

He shrugged, smirking. "I couldn't possibly let you do this with your hand when it needed rest and attention. I knew you wouldn't listen to me if I told you to leave it alone. You never have."

"Oh, I have," I argued. "At first."

He chuckled at my sheepish tone. "You'll get a bandage for support until your physiotherapist decides otherwise."

"So, you're letting me live with this?"

"Of course. There is no reason for us to amputate your hand. Yes, we had to remove several connections between the nerves, and yes, we didn't expect the mobility of your hand to be affected so much, but I have no reason to believe you won't be able to move it after proper physiotherapy treatment. Do you remember what I said to you about patience and healing? Now, you're going to need loads of it."

I looked down at my awfully looking hand, silently sighing. "What is wrong with it?"

"Besides the obvious, we believe that a few tendons might have been affected by your injury as well. We naturally expected the mobility to be somewhat limited, but certainly not to this extent. Don't worry," he said, reacting to my eyes widening, "it is going to get better. But you need to be patient, alright? You need to work on it and you can't give up on yourself now." I nodded mindlessly, looking down at my hand. "When it comes to your somatosensory system, things are just as we expected. You see, Bella, in your skin, all over your body, there are sensory receptors that are connected to your brain by special nerve fibers that you damaged. We had to remove these nerves and therefore your brain cannot detect any changes to the surface, be it temperature change, pressure, vibrations or change in texture. There is a slim chance that your nerves might eventually regenerate and grow together, but now it is really hard to tell if it's going to happen." He stopped talking for a while. "You know, Bella, you were lucky. I know it might not seem that way now, but the fact that you can move at least the tips of your fingers is a great accomplishment already. Mr. Greene was impressed."

"Mr. Greene?"

"The physiotherapist who examined you. He's one of the best we have."

"I can't always do it," I mumbled.

"Nobody expects you to," he sighed. "Patience, sweetie."

"Sure, sure."

"Is it painful now?"

"A little. I mean I can't feel the pain in my hand, but from the scar upwards, hell yes. Though, it isn't as bad as last week."

"It's going to get better." And then he smirked wickedly. "Did you tell Edward what medication you're taking?"

Oh, crap. The Vicodin crap. I'd said Vicodin. "Kind of..?"

His smirk widened. "Bella? What did you say? Didn't he ask you?"

"He didn't have to. I might have joked about Vicodin," I admitted.

He sighed loudly, shaking his head. "Did you know he has taken that seriously? He called me right after your session and asked me if I had lost my mind, prescribing Vicodin to you."

I chuckled. It had worked better than I thought. "That was the point."

"Bella." He started going all fatherly on me again and I huffed. "There is a certain trust that has to be maintained between a patient and their doctor. Now if you violate or disrespect that trust it might result in unsuccessful treatment or even – in this case - unintentional harm."

"What do you mean?"

"The medication I prescribed to you a week and a half ago is used in psychiatry as well – it is essentially an antidepressant, basically working as an opioid in a sense, suppressing pain in the nerves. Now I knew about the antidepressants you were prescribed in the hospital, so I could make the correct decision as to not cause any contraindications. If Edward had decided to change your medication and he wasn't aware of the fact you are taking this type of antidepressants, your overall condition could've worsened."

I felt awfully embarrassed. "Oh my god. Why can't I have just one? Aren't they all the same?"

"Essentially, yes. But it is up to Edward to make that decision. You can work it out between the two of you."

"So he knows now?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

"You talk to him about me?"

"Bella, I can't discuss your condition with anyone. And I'm sure you would like it either. But as doctors - yes. We talked about you."

I sighed loudly.

"But, hey, Bella," he said after a while. "I wouldn't feel comfortable discussing it with someone I know you are not comfortable with personally. So I tried to keep most of the things to myself. If you had a different psychiatrist, we would most likely never meet and discuss your condition. Although in this case, you were lucky it was my son and not some other colleague. You might have made a fool out of me." He chuckled again. Christ, Bella. Dr. Angelic was a safe bet to annoy Edward, but I didn't want to hurt him in the process. "How's it going, anyway? With your therapy, I mean."

"Don't you know? Being doctor and all?"

He detected my mocking tone. "No. Edward didn't tell me anything, he respects your privacy. You can tell me. Just as you can tell him about your physical condition, but if you're not comfortable, I won't pry."

I sighed. "We've met only once, last Tuesday. We were supposed to meet on Thursday, as he suggested that we should meet twice a week, but he canceled at the last minute." I was ecstatic then. A bright point in a terribly dull week I'd had.

He nodded, obviously knowing what it was all about. "Oh, yes. He might've mentioned you."

"Do you talk about me all the time?"

He chuckled. "He only said he had to cancel your session. Don't worry that was all he said."

"Sure."

"Bella, give him some credit. Me, too, for that matter," he winked at me. "Now, tell me. What was it like?"

I shrugged. "Uncomfortable. He sure is a pain in the ass." Dr. Angelic suddenly laughed out loud, throwing his head back. I wasn't sure what was so funny. "I'm obviously missing the joke here."

He shook his head. "Maybe. But I'm sure I'm the only one who would find it funny."

I didn't understand and wasn't even trying to. "Does that mean you got over the _Edward-being-my-psychiatrist_ thing?" I raised a brow.

His face got more serious now. "No. My opinion is still the same."

"Does Edward know?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

Dr. Angelic was quiet for a while and by the look on his face, I could tell he was thinking if he should tell me or not. "He basically said I'm wrong and that even if it was true, he would never let his personal feelings – if there were any - influence his treatment and how he sees the patient. Though, at that time he wasn't sure if he should accept you as a patient even if you really wanted him."

I groaned silently. "Well, I can't really say it was good or bad because the shrinks I had ten years ago were mental. It wasn't as bad as it could have been I suppose, maybe a bit weird when we started talking about food. Your son's confusingly weird."

He smiled. "That's Edward."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "That's Edward."

"Now, I want to see you two weeks from now. Mr. Greene scheduled your therapy for every Monday and Thursday, starting this Thursday."

"Oh, wait; I have a session with Edward."

"I'm sure it would be no problem for you to reschedule it with him."

"Yeah, I suppose," I thought out loud. For a while there I thought I would be lucky to skip the Thursday ones. Dr. Angelic put a special elastic bandage with a support on my hand and warned me about taking it easy. While he was talking to me I tried to lift my hand and move my fingers but no. I could sort of move my wrist and keep it upright if I really wanted to, but it took a lot of effort. It was my fingers that were like jello for Christ's sake.

The next day when I had my second therapy session with Edward, I remember a thick blanket of grey clouds covering Seattle. It wasn't unusual, especially this time of year. But I remember walking down the street towards Edward's office, looking up and thinking they looked menacing. There was something about them; they were fast moving and cumulating, in some places darker than others. One would think it an omen, but omens – as frightening as I had once considered them to be - had no real power over me anymore. My life was pretty miserable; I could imagine only a handful of things that could make it worse. If anything, maybe living in Seattle with the constantly lingering clouds over my head was the reason why my life was this awful. Maybe moving to Washington had been one big mistake in the first place… but given the fact I hadn't had a choice in the matter, I was going to - as fatalist as I was - blame fate for throwing me into this big messy puddle I was in… no pun intended.

I woke up that morning more with an expectation and apprehension than an actual fear for what therapy was going to be like today. It was the central event of the day since I wasn't in school yet, so it was naturally on my mind for most of the day. The girls were back at work, and I had at least some time for myself before one or both of them barged into my apartment to check on me. It was nice to have time just for myself, to finally be alone after a week of being in the constant presence of one or the other, but the silence and solitude weren't as forgiving as I expected them to be. During the week I had spent with the girls, I felt fairly okay. Exhausted and in physical pain, but emotionally fine to as much of an extent as possible. I guess the girls had provided me with a distraction. It was a sense of preservation I had – It was impossible for things to get worse in the presence of another human being. I couldn't allow anyone to see just how awful it could get. I guess it was due to the experience I'd had with people when it came to my bad days. So, with an exception of sleepless nights when everything came to haunt me and prevented me from getting enough rest, I was alright. Empty and in physical pain but distracted.

But when I was finally alone… everything seemed to go down-hill from there. Last week's days were long and the nights were even longer. Somehow, even Edward's presence in my dreams was pissing me off. I had felt restless, so I had taken long walks and listened to shitloads of music. I talked to Newton over the phone yesterday, telling him I'd like to come back on Wednesday. He was quite reserved, and I could tell that he didn't know how to navigate the conversation. I told him I was in therapy and that I would bring him a letter signed by Edward to prove it. After a few awkward questions about how I felt, he agreed and allowed me to come back to school this week. I thanked him and quickly hung up. Honestly, it was the best piece of news I had gotten in a long time.

I cried a lot, too, that goes without saying. I was alone now and sometimes I just involuntarily burst into tears in the middle of the day. All the pent-up emotion was coming out, and I wasn't surprised. My hands were better and now that I had the stitches out from both of them, I could move the fingers of my right hand to the point where I could take care of basic tasks like drinking from a glass, taking pills or making myself something easy to eat. Not that I ate much. Yesterday I only had a ham sandwich, salad and a cup of tea. Somehow, I wasn't able to push anything down. I was tempted to stop taking the pills, but Alice and Rose were controlling that shit and I thought I wouldn't be able to get away with it. Yes, I guess I could've thrown them away, but I felt like they would find out. I was a terrible liar. And if they did find out, I would be that much further away from gaining their trust again. I wasn't going to risk that.

I went straight to the elevator when I reached the building where Edward's practice was located, and I tried not to think about what was about to come. I felt more nervous the closer the next session became, and I guess it had a lot to do with how more vulnerable I felt last week and how well I knew Edward could go around certain topics. I was positive that if he wanted, he could find what he needed, there was no doubt about that. That frightened me a little and made me more reluctant than ever of going to today's session. More so than the one last Tuesday when I hadn't known what to expect. Because this day just felt downright off. Normally I would call it a bad day. You see, the thing about depression was that your days were generally pretty shitty. All of them were bad. But there were better bad days when things didn't seem so daunting and unbearable. You could even ignore the pain and enjoy your day because in time you adapted to how sad you felt all the time. But then there were days when you just couldn't see a point in anything. Everything was pissing you off, making you uncomfortable; you were on the edge and became angered and stressed very easily. At that point, you reached for the things that would numb your pain, whatever it was. In the worst-case scenario, apathy took over. You didn't give a shit. A car could be heading in your direction and you would just shrug your shoulder, because there was no reason, and I mean _no_ reason for you to move away. Days like these were the worst. In a way, today was one of those.

Timidly, I knocked on the door to Edward's office. My heart was beating fast, and I was physically very uncomfortable. The door opened almost immediately, and I was greeted with an almost relieved expression on his face. Every time I saw him I got a bit flustered when I realized just how handsome he was. I thought that the mind of a painter was enough to make me remember his face in perfect detail, but there was always something new to discover about how his face changed. Today it was his forehead that visibly relaxed when he opened the door. He smiled, but somehow tensely. "Miss Swan. I thought you had stood me up."

Again with Miss Swan… I rolled my eyes. "I wish I could."

He ignored me, the emotionless mask of Dr. Psycho on his face again. "Come in, please," he said in the professional voice I recognized from the last session. I was already getting worked up; irritated. I entered the practice, following him into his office. Again, he let me enter the room first and his politeness and calm approach were inexplicably pushing me to the edge. It had only been a mere minute and a half I had spent in his presence, yet I already felt like punching him in the face. Handsome fucker.

"Please, take a seat." I sat down on the leather sofa, sinking comfortably into its soft surface. Edward sat down opposite me, just like he had the last time. He had a clipboard in his lap again, writing something down. Then he looked back up to me. "I want to apologize for canceling the appointment last Thursday. It was a family emergency." I wondered what could have been so urgent and raised an eyebrow as to inquire some details, but he didn't elaborate.

I looked around the office to avoid looking at Edward, noticing details I hadn't seen last time– dark red curtains on the sides of the window, the titles of medical books on the library shelves, brown soft carpet on the floor, a very nice green plant in the left corner of the room. The color of the walls was a very soft brownish orange, a color not very bright but not dull either… butterscotch orange. Yeah, that could work. The colors in his office complimented each other very well and whoever designed it, knew what they were doing. I liked it, design-wise. Purpose-wise, not so much.

"…Miss Swan?"

"What?" I snapped back, looking at Edward.

"Can we begin?"

"It's quiet in here," I said in response, not really looking at him. "You know what they say – the type of silence that makes you uncomfortable. The silence that's deafening."

"Does silence make you uncomfortable?"

"No. Not usually."

"What's different now?"

"I don't know," I sighed, meeting his eyes. His face was still blank, but his eyes were slightly confused I would say. "I… I don't know."

He wrote something down. Only then did I realize he had already started his torture. "Do you like music?"

Defeated, I shrugged, avoiding his gaze again. "I guess so."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. I like it, but…" I trailed off, not really knowing what to say. I was awfully distracted today by how tensed up I felt.

"What types of music do you like?"

What was this now? "I like… Kanye West. I like him. Some people think he's a prick – and he is quite vulgar in his music at times - but I like his overall eccentricity. How even when he's rejected, he pushes through and does his own thing. Although, I can't say I'm a big fan of the Kardashian woman."

He chuckled. Edward actually chuckled. Not the reaction I wanted from him, but it was nice to hear it was a human sitting in front of me. And did I mention just how nice it sounded? I looked at him immediately. "I like his music, too."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Some of it is good, some of it not so much. But, yeah. I get the appeal. Do you like eccentric people?"

I nodded. "I guess I do. I've never really thought about it. Anyone who's out of ordinary, I suppose. People who are not afraid to show who they are if you know what I mean." He didn't say anything, and I kept thinking. "I like peculiarity in people, yes, you could say that. I like how they embrace their own oddity."

He wrote something down. "Do you think it's difficult?"

"What exactly?"

"To embrace one's let's say… quirky personality?"

I nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

He waited for a while before asking. "Do you consider yourself to be quirky or strange, out of the ordinary as you said?" It was amazing and a little frightening how his voice changed when he touched a sensitive topic as if he knew he was entering forbidden territory even if it didn't look like something sensitive to ask about. His voice was very calm and deep in general, but when he asked questions like these, his speech slowed down, and he tried to dazzle me not only by his eyes but also by his voice. It felt like he knew so much already, although I knew it was impossible. Something was telling me it was his impeccable ability of perception that made him this good.

I swallowed hard, looking at the hands in my lap. "Maybe. Once I thought I was."

"What changed?"

I looked into his green eyes. "I failed at embracing it." We kept staring at each other, his eyes trying to read mine while mine filled with sadness. I looked away quickly, surprised how quickly I had let my guard down and how easy it had been. Damnit. I didn't have a problem with telling him certain things as long as I kept them as neutral as possible. How was he doing this?

He had been quiet for a long time now. I don't know why; he was probably waiting for me to say something. I didn't dare look at him. I knew I was uncomfortable, and that tears were welling in my eyes and that I didn't want to be here. I just wanted to go home and lie down on my bed and curl into a ball. I just wanted to forget about everything. I didn't want to be reminded of any of it.

"How do you feel today?" he asked, after all, his voice somewhat gentle. I got an impression that his face had softened, but it was probably just my imagination. He was all on top of me today. Emotionless. Detached.

"Just peachy," I smiled at him sardonically. I was right; his face was a blank mask and to get any reaction out of him would be a challenge today as I felt emotionally completely drained. To be here was the last thing I wanted. _Get your head back in the game, Bella._

"I'm here for you," he said after a while, firmly. His eyes were distant, but still honest and open. "I'm here for you and you can trust me."

I gave him a condescending smile and almost laughed at his attempt. "Look, Edward. I appreciate your effort," I lied. "But I'm not here because I'm a fan of yours. I can assure you that this is the last place I want to be and you're the last person I would like to spend time with. Besides, you don't like me either, so you don't have to act like you give a shit about me now that I am sitting here and I am your _patient_ ," I said, using air quotes at the word patient. "I need a shrink because I fucking need to go back to work and Rose and Alice will not let me live this shit down. We can talk about random shit as much as you like, but let's not go into details, okay?" I asked, his face unfathomable. "Let's face it - you don't really want to hear about it and I don't want to talk about it."

He frowned deeply and not expecting any reaction from him, I was surprised to see a flash of irritation appear on his face. He studied me for a while, leaning towards me in his chair. "You don't feel well today, do you?"

Was he ignoring me? Feeling restless, I stood up, frustrated. "Is that not obvious?"

"Please, sit down, Miss Swan."

"Don't call me Miss Swan," I muttered, rolling my eyes. I kept shuffling my feet in one place, avoiding his eyes.

"All I want is for you to talk about it with me. You don't have to worry about judgment or prejudice. I'm giving you an opportunity to free yourself from the burden I know you feel," he said, his voice calm and slow, his words sinking deep. What could he know about suffering? "To talk is to acknowledge the most hurtful and painful truths you're hiding inside. But to talk is also to let go. Don't let fear of pain stop you from living your life as fully as possible."

It sounded familiar, and I remembered Dr. Angelic ten years ago, telling me a paraphrase of the same thing Edward just said. He must have heard it from his father. I don't think I had really understood what he had meant at the time. And I didn't know if I knew what Edward was talking about now. I had never allowed myself to face the demons inside me. And I was sure not going to start now.

He continued. "Miss Swan, I understand if you're not ready to talk about anything today. We can talk about anything you like. As long as you talk to me, I'm fine with it."

Finally, I sat down, exhaling loudly, not looking at him. I stubbornly crossed my arms under my breasts. "You're contradicting yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"First you tell me you want me to talk about my feelings and then you say you don't mind if I talk about anything I like. You don't make sense."

"I'm giving you a choice."

"For how long?"

"For as long as you need."

I snorted and looked at him, wanting to see his reaction to what I was about to say. "What if I will never want to talk about my feelings? Will you be sitting here with me a year from now talking about music and food and alcohol?"

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

"That's ridiculous." I shook my head.

"No, it's not. I told you, you can trust me. And I'll do anything in my power to make you see that I can be there for you as someone who is objective and unbiased."

I laughed dryly. "You know that's not true. We hate each other, Edward."

He sighed. "If you keep calling me that, you will never see me as your doctor. It is you who has to make the first step and accept the situation you're in."

Annoying idiot. "Could you, please, stop quoting your father?!"

He frowned at the mention of his father, just as I expected. "Don't bring up my father. This is between us."

"Whatever."

"And I don't hate you," he said, his voice rather harsh as if I offended him by saying that.

"Yeah, keep yourself telling that," I smirked.

He sighed, evidently aggravated now. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger – an evident sign of frustration. And I did a little happy-dance in my head. I had gotten to him after all. "Let's change the topic of discussion."

"Am I getting on your nerves, doctor?" I chuckled provocatively.

"Tell me about how you feel about your antidepressants," he said simply, and I saw just how much he was trying to calm himself down.

"What? Why?"

"In case I need to change the prescription. Antidepressants change the chemical balance in your brain and while most of them function on a similar principle, it's my responsibility to make sure we're using the ones that will have the most beneficial effect with the least amount of side effects. Miss Swan, I'm your doctor, but I don't really know what I'm treating you for."

This got my attention, and I remembered what Dr. Cullen had told me about the medication he's given me. Edward didn't seem angry about me lying to him, but since he was cryptic as fuck who knew what was feeling now. "I don't understand."

"In the files from your previous psychiatrists, I found-"

"Wait, what? My files? You've seen my files?"

"I needed to know your medical history," he said as if it wasn't already obvious. I swallowed hard. I had no idea what those assholes might have written down. "Many of your previous therapists diagnosed you with various degrees of major depressive disorder, panic disorder, anxiety disorder; I even found an entry in which Dr. Varner believed you might develop psychosis. Now, it is difficult for me-"

"What the fuck are talking about?!" I cut him off. "I am completely alright! Is my life fucked up? Yes! But I'm not crazy!"

"I'm not saying you are crazy. Nobody with a mental disorder is crazy, Miss Swan. What I was about to say is that the information is ten years old and might not reflect your current situation. And I'm trying to the best of my abilities to assess your mental health condition in a way that you will benefit from. But without proper communication there is no way I can do that. And without a diagnosis, I don't know what medication you need."

"I don't need any medication."

He sighed and the tension in the room was as thick as the grey clouds in the sky I saw today. "Now, listen to me for a while. It may sound strange, coming from a psychiatrist, but I don't believe all people need medication in order to get better. The brain and its chemical composition is still a huge unknown and many times – when it comes to depression - medication can be a step back in therapy, worsening a condition, weakening the brain and stealing the ability of neurotransmitters to work normally again. And I'm not mentioning the long list of side effects many of them have a high risk of addiction and overdose. It is true that for some people medication is necessary for them to lead a normal life and they will be dependent on it for the rest of their lives. And that is perfectly fine. But it is staggering how many people suffering from depression that I treated end up with no medication at all. With the help of psychologists, we were able to lower the doses of antidepressants, sometimes even getting rid of them completely. Of course, it's a slow process, but if you don't give me a chance, there is only so much I can do." His eyes were passionate and persuasive. He knew what he was talking about and I felt my mouth being dry, my heart beating fast. "While I have to take the conclusions of my colleagues into consideration, I will make my own decision and come up with my own diagnosis when I feel like I have enough information about you and your symptoms."

His eyes were making me uncomfortable. "I'm not ill."

"You don't know that."

"Edward, it's just who I am, okay?" I threw my arms in the air.

He shook his head. We were in the middle of a heated discussion, but it was astounding just how relatively composed he managed to be while I was basically defying everything he said. "You're giving up on yourself."

"I don't want to talk about this. You said we don't have to talk about this."

He exhaled deeply. "Yes, you're right. We don't."

"I don't have any side effects."

"Sorry?"

"I said I don't have any side effects from the pills I'm taking now. I feel fine."

He nodded in understanding. "Good. If there is any change, tell me immediately. Do you feel any… progress in terms of mood changes?" I only shook my head. I wasn't getting into that. I didn't see any difference from what I felt like before my suicide attempt and now. He nodded, writing it down. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"How are your hands doing?" he asked, motioning to my lap where my hands resided.

I couldn't stop the groan that escaped my mouth at the thought of them. It was annoying and tiring just how much the injuries affected my life and how helpless I sometimes felt when I couldn't do regular things - like brushing my teeth – without extra effort and caution. I lifted them up between us, the left one in an elastic bandage, the right one bare, with the pink scar facing him. "Amazing." He didn't respond, and I let my hands eventually fall back into my lap, sighing. "They're killing me."

Edward eyed them for a little while and then looked up at me. "What's the prognosis?"

I contemplated for a moment, not sure if I wanted to tell him, but then I realized that it didn't matter. "My right hand is a little sensitive now. I could barely move my fingers without feeling pain the first week, but I had my stitches removed last week, and it's not as unbearable as it was previously. It's still weak but should be alright. My left hand, on the other side, is basically fucked up for good. Your dad said something about it being functional up to sixty percent with therapy and what not, but to be honest, I don't believe it one bit. I can barely move my fingers. I don't feel anything. It's the weirdest feeling."

He was silent for a moment. "It might be frightening for you now to face the consequences of your suicide attempt, but you should trust my father and if he says you're going to be fine, I have no reason to doubt him. It is natural to feel helpless and maybe even like there was something stolen from you, but this phase is only temporary," he said, looking me deeply into eyes. "The moment you face your biggest fears and obstacles you will see your perspective shift. And after that, you will realize that the things you feared were not half as big as you thought. Actually, they'll seem pretty silly." I didn't say anything to that. It was deep as shit and I was already quite emotionally drained. I looked down into my lap, at the pink scar on my right hand because I couldn't bear to look into his face.

"Okay. That's all for today," he said finally after minutes of me sitting and staring at my hands. He stood up and walked over to his desk. I followed him.

"I need a confirmation letter from you regarding the psychiatric care you are providing. You know, for work."

"So, you're going back to school?"

"Yep. Tomorrow actually."

He smiled timidly. "That's good. Being alone can be daunting. Especially now. I think you'll feel better with kids around you." I nodded. I wanted to go already. I sat down on the chair while he typed the letter. "You know, Marcus should return to school soon, too."

My head shot up. "Really?! How is he?" I felt ashamed to have forgotten about him. Poor boy. I missed him a lot.

Edward chuckled. He should laugh more. It was a nice sight to see his eyes sparkle with amusement; his lips curl up in a smile and not that annoying sarcastic smirk he sometimes sported. Not that he was like that in therapy, no. He was very professional when I didn't annoy him; there was no doubt about that, but… When he smiled or laughed his whole face changed as if he was a completely different person underneath all that crap we were pretending to be in front of each other for the last couple of weeks. Like that man in the hospital who saved my ass. "Good. He's good," he said. "He wants to thank you for saving him."

I frowned at him. "What? I didn't save him, you did."

He looked at me. "No, I didn't. You were there, too. And you should've seen his face when I told him. I couldn't possibly break his heart by telling him otherwise. He adores you."

Oh my god, my little boy. I was indeed a selfish creature, thinking always of myself and throwing myself a pity-party. "God, I'm horrible."

Edward frowned. "How have you come up with that now?"

"I mean… I just…." I shook my head, suppressing tears. "Nothing, it's nothing."

"You sure?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded. He returned to his laptop, and I quickly wiped away the tears that had escaped my eyes. I hoped he hadn't noticed. I looked away and spotted a photo frame on his table. It wasn't there the last time and although it wasn't turned entirely to face me, a person sitting in the chair could still make out who was in the photograph. It was a woman hugging a little girl from behind. The woman was beautiful. And I mean like the Vogue kind of beautiful. She had a perfect oval face with high cheekbones and full pink lips. Her eyes were big and ice blue in color and there was something in them, something that I had never seen in my eyes – confidence. She looked very intelligent, too. Her face was framed by wavy strawberry blond hair that complemented her pale skin which had a blunt reddish tint to it. The girl in her arms didn't look anything like her. At first sight, there was no doubt about who the little girl was. Brown-reddish messy ringlets and round green eyes would give it away every time she tried to deny Edward as her father. She was adorable, grinning widely at the camera, her cheeks lightly speckled with freckles. There was a little bit of her mother in her as well, but she was all Edward, through and through.

"My wife and daughter," Edward said when he noticed me looking at the picture. I turned to him, caught off-guard, because I felt various emotions swell in my chest at the sight of his family – not only envy and jealousy but also an unnerving flash of happiness for him. I could understand the former two, but why I felt happy for him was a mystery. But the feeling went as fast as it had come and soon it was forgotten.

"You have a beautiful family," I said. "Katie looks exactly like you. She's adorable."

He looked at the picture himself, smiling immediately. There was a wistfulness in his eyes. "She is, isn't she?" And then, he turned to me, cocking up an eyebrow. "Do you mean by that that I'm adorable?"

The way he asked that question made me crack up out loud, and the sound startled not only him, but me as well. Suddenly, he was all playful, smirking crookedly at me, sparks lighting up his eyes and it took only one look at his face to make me smile like a crazy person. I was laughing hard and about to answer him when he shook his head, the sparks going away as if he realized what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry... forget it." And he waved his hand, turning away from me. My laughter died down immediately as if it was a chain reaction of sorts; as if the moment we just shared was a surreal dream memory.

And I think it sort of had been because Edward Cullen had just made me laugh – a sound long forgotten.

The next thing I knew, he turned to me, his face all rigid and emotionless, handing me a piece of paper for Newton. He seemed to be a little uncomfortable now and almost as if I was attuned to his emotions, his distress carried itself onto me. "Thank you for coming, Miss Swan. I really thought you wouldn't show up."

I shrugged, taking the paper from him. The change in his demeanor was so abrupt that it only strengthened the oddity of the moment we had shared. "I'd hate to be predictable."

He nodded, smiling lightly, but it wasn't as relaxed as before. "I should remember that."

I turned to finally go and let this tension disappear when I remembered something. "That reminds me, I won't be able to come on Thursdays. I have physiotherapy scheduled on Mondays and Thursdays. Maybe we could reschedule?" I suggested but hoped he would just cancel.

He nodded in understanding. "Sure, no problem. Are Fridays okay? I know it may be a little inconvenient, but it's better if your sessions are not on consecutive days."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

And we stood there, looking at each other, both in quite a haze I suppose. It was awkward, and it only made me sadder in a way. I opened the door and gave him one last look. "Goodbye, Edward."

"Goodbye, Miss Swan."

And the moment I left the room, I felt the weight of the clouds above my head again, not realizing that for a few seconds they had been gone.

* * *

A/N **Thouuuughts?**


	17. This Awful Day Made No Sense

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. The storyline's mine :)**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you for your help, editing and ideas. _Micropenis_ made it to the final eight ;) You guys will know later what I'm talking about.**

 **Now... Enjoy. R.**

* * *

17\. Kanye West – To the World (feat. Teyana Taylor & R Kelly)

* * *

CHAPTER 16

 **This Awful Day Made No Sense**

" _Let me see you put your middle fingers up  
To the world I made up in my mind  
I'm doing things my way  
I'm burnin' shit down tonight  
I'm doing shit my own way  
It's my own way or the highway  
Middle fingers up to the world, to the world."_

 _Saturday, March 16, 2013_ _(11 days later)_

" _Let me see you put your middle fingers up; To the world I made up I my mind oooohhh; I'm doing things my way, I'm burnin' shit down tonight; I'm doing things my own way oooohhh,"_ I howled loudly. I had been singing Kanye's songs and staring at the wall for the last hour. I had never thought I could get tired of his songs before, but now I was bored to exhaustion… if that's possible.

 _Briiiiing. Briiiing._

"Christ!" I sat up, silenced the music and reached for the phone on my bedtable for what must have been the seventh time, wiping tears away from my face, not bothering with those that had slid on my neck while I was lying down. It was Alice. "Alice, before you begin, let me tell you for the tenth time today that I am not coming tonight, okay? I. Am. Not. Tell Rose I'm sorry, but tonight is not a good time for me." There was silence on the other side. "So, what? Are you giving me the silent treatment now?"

"It's Edward."

 _Oh, crap._ Now, I was silent. Embarrassment rushed through me and not only because of the number I had pulled just now but also because of the one I had pulled yesterday. What had I been thinking? Of course, he would chase my ass. But I didn't think he would use my friend's number to do so.

"Bella?" he asked when I didn't answer. I still couldn't believe he was actually calling me. And from Alice's phone. The last time he called was when he had canceled our session. To hear his voice on the phone was the last thing I expected.

"It's Bella and Edward now?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Yes. Yes, you are interrupting my _wall-talk_ , thank you very much. "Nah. Why are you calling from Alice's phone?"

"I'm at Emmett and Rosalie's place with Jasper and Alice. She thought I might change your mind."

Oh, Alice. "I'm sorry. She can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. You just should've said no to her."

There was silence again. "I wanted to call you."

"You did?"

"Yes. I mean… You missed your appointment yesterday."

For some reason, my heart started pounding. I cleared my throat. "Ahm. I wasn't feeling well."

He didn't say anything again, and I almost hung up. Idiot. Him. Me. Both of us… I was an idiot for chickening out yesterday and lying to him now and he was an idiot for… He just was. "And I suppose you´re not well today, either. Being that you're not coming to Rosalie's dinner tonight."

"No."

Eloquent wouldn't be a word to describe Edward at that moment. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No."

I swear, there was nearly ten seconds of silence every time before he answered. He sounded nervous for some reason as if he was unsure what he was doing now. "Are you sure you're not coming tonight?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Because, you know, they're quite excited. She would miss you."

Rosalie. He was talking about Rosalie. And I knew she was excited, couldn't stop talking about the dinner all week. She had invited Emmett's parents as well as hers, his friends and what not. She always loved to have a lot of people to take care of and it was always quite difficult to arrange dinner where all of Emmett's and her friends and family could meet since the majority of Emmett's friends worked at the hospital. The closer the wedding became, the crazier Rose became, and Alice obviously couldn't contain her happiness for Rose either. Alice had said to Rosalie that she was going to spend _eternity in all universes_ with Emmett - whatever that meant - and Rose just swallowed that bullshit like it was a piece of sparkling candy. I mean, I'm not saying there was no chance for them to spend their whole lives together; they were the perfect couple - the sort of couple you were in awe of when you saw them but… come on, look at it from a realistic point of view. Statistically, their chances to make it were fifty-fifty.

"She's gonna be alright," I said.

"As I mentioned, Jasper's in town as well," he added. As if that would change anything. Besides, I had already been informed about that since Alice couldn't shut up the whole week about him coming into town. It was Rosalie's excitement from the right side, Alice's from the left side and while I wasn't necessarily jealous of them – okay, yes, I was… a little – their happiness only accentuated the sadness I felt in my life. "Their parents, Emmett's friends… You know I think it's gonna be fun."

I laughed dryly, getting ready for my sarcasm-licked tone. "Is your wife coming?" That would've made my night just _splendid_ had I gone – being thrown his perfect life in my fucking face, seeing a woman that was apparently _ultra-super-great-successful_. Rosalie sometimes mentioned her, how much she wanted to meet her, and Alice wasn't behind in seconding her opinion. I bet the wife would've annoyed me just like her dick of a husband did.

And after I asked the question, there was the silence again that I didn't want to hear. For a while, I thought he had hung up, but I didn't hear a beeping tone, so he must have still been on the line.

"No, she's not." His voice suddenly had that rigid tone to it I recognized from his office and realized he was Dr. Psycho now. Up to this point, however, it had been Edward calling.

Well, I wasn't going to apologize. I just discovered another weak spot – his wife. He was obviously sensitive when it came to his family. I was curious as to how he would react if I threw his daughter into the mix… Imagine my evil laugh now. _Hahahahahaha._

"Well, Edward, then – enjoy. If you think Emmett's parents are fun, then you obviously haven't met them."

He chuckled into the phone. "Actually, I have. They're a little… uptight, I'd say, but not bad company."

I chuckled lightly. "It is bad company if you want to get drunk. And you don't want to do that in front of them, trust me. They're not my biggest fans," I said in response without thinking.

"I might've heard something about that." Edward chuckled again.

"Of course, you have. Emmett's turned into a little gossip queen," I said, a little furious. I had never had anything against Emmett. He was the one who always passively hated my presence whenever I entered his personal space but spreading stories about me made me fucking angry. Guess he wasn't that passive after all.

"He was just telling another story and only mentioned the incident. Don't tell him I told you."

"I have no intention to, but whatever. Is there anything else you want to talk about, Edward? I've things to attend to." Like wall-singing, for example.

"No, of course not," he said, but it felt like he wanted to add something else. "But maybe coming tonight would make you feel better – being among people."

I sighed in frustration at his not so subtle attempt to get me to go. "Geez, is that your fucking mission in life, to make me feel better? Well, guess what? I'm positive that one dinner spent in your presence won't change that. Therapy isn't working so now you're trying to drag me out? "It came out a bit harsher than I originally wanted it to, but I guess it helped to get my point across. And it was also quite unfair towards him as a doctor, but… You gotta do what you gotta do.

Wasn't I just amazing today?

On the other side, there was a silence before he spoke. "Forget about it. Have a nice rest of the day, Miss Swan." Strangely, his voice didn't show any sign of annoyance, but it was that Dr. Cullen-like aloofness that struck my chest. Before I could say anything, he hung up, and I was left with a long beeping sound on the other end. The man was on his period I swear, confusing the shit out of me. Now, don't get me wrong, today it seemed like I had caught him in a bad place. He seemed to be quite nervous and more easily disturbed compared to the last time I had seen him. We'd had three more therapy sessions – well, technically two as I hadn't gone yesterday – and those had been just pure travesty. Basically, each of the therapies followed a similar pattern - he tried to make me talk while I acted like a bitch. He had also given me a few leaflets with a list of numbers I should call if I ever felt like I was about to hurt myself or had suicidal thoughts… I mean, seriously? If I were to listen to him, I would be calling those numbers 24/7.

Going back and forth, back and forth, we talked about all sorts of crap while he was trying to squeeze some juicy information out of me. A week ago, on Friday, I was on the strike, making him irritated to the point where he ended the session twenty minutes early. I'd felt triumphant and realized that maybe he was going to give up on me soon and proclaim that I was an untreatable case and leave me be. But then, I went to this week's appointment and it felt like he had prepared for me; his face was one blank sheet with no sign of emotion on his face. I pushed as much as I could, but he didn't waiver one bit. On the contrary, he caught me off-guard several times with his voice and eyes and just his motherfucking presence. Every time I was around him, it was like our energies crashed and they couldn't settle down. The tension between us was undeniable, but the serenity he brought with him was always there, lurking in the distance and coming closer when I let my guard down. Sometimes, just as now, he chuckled or laughed, but it all quickly died down as if he had caught himself doing something he shouldn't have been. And that further confused me even more so, because the more I interacted with him, the more I felt like he was holding himself back, and that he couldn't express himself in the way that he wanted.

Or he really was just a dick which I was very much inclined to believe. If he was dealing with some shit himself, that would make me like him, sympathize with him and we were not going down that route, okay? It was enough that dream-Bella fucking adored Edward. I was not going to. And what shit could he be going through, anyway? His life was perfect. He had parents, a wife, a daughter, a fantastic career… Life was easy for him.

Yes. Edward Cullen was just a dick. A shrink-dick…. With a shrinking dick. _Haha_. I wondered what his dick was like…

 _No. Don't go there, Bella._ _Stop thinking about his dick._

Today was only a bad day. I was angry and irritated from the second I woke up, especially now that Edward had made his call. But it was just another day. Yesterday - I have to admit - was a little tough for me as Jessica fucking Stanley was spreading rumors all around the school about my suicide attempt. It was supposed to stay just between Rose, Alice, Newton and me, but as the three of us suspected, Stanley finally found her way into Newton's pants and it was more than possible that he let his mouth run while she was sucking on his dick. I confronted him yesterday, and he said that luckily, not one of the parents picked up on the rumors and even if there were concerns, he would defend me by proving that I was in therapy and getting better. The truth was, however, that if one of the parents were as wealthy and influential as Mr. Great-fucking-Aro-Volturi, and they would want me to be gone, Newton wouldn't have a choice but to fire me. And that would be the last fucking drop in the ocean. Last fucking drop, before I actually acted on the suicidal thoughts I was having more and more these days.

So, I spent today in my bed, watching _Ten Things I Hate About You_ , because although I didn't like chick-flicks, Heath Ledger was a bad boy and I liked bad boys. Maybe I should write a poem for Edward – _Fucking Hundred Things I Hate About You._ When the movie ended, I watched it again. And then I cried because I fucking could and because it was one of those moments when I just wanted to cry. I was taking happy pills, but I hadn't really noticed a change, so Edward said something about changing my prescription. He also said that I had lost weight and that I should've told him that my appetite had decreased. What-fucking-ever. I had told everyone that pills were not going to change how I felt. And I didn't mind not eating. My hands were better, but it didn't mean it wasn't difficult to cook.

My right hand was almost completely healed, and I could do a lot of things with it now without much pain. Mr. Green, my physiotherapist, checked it the first time I had met him and said that it would work just as before. My left hand was the one that was making my life a total nightmare. You don't realize just for how many things you need both of your hands for until you lose one. Well, not literally, but you get the point. So far, I've had three physiotherapies, but I was supposed to do exercises every day. I can't say I was doing them, because you know… life was busy and shit, so some days I just skipped. Furthermore, it was so painful sometimes and I didn't know why. Some days were fine; I just felt this strange tingling and tickling. But some days, my forearm was on fire. I was going to see Dr. Angelic on Monday to see what he says about it.

Now that the second run of the movie had ended, I just sang and watched my walls because they really fucking needed some painting. Crap. But some days I had barely the energy to get up from bed, let alone paint a room, so I simply shrugged my shoulder because I didn't care. It wasn't like anyone was in this room besides me. Oh my god… that reminded me I hadn't had sex in months. Let me tell you – it was a little annoying. I missed it, what can I say? But I couldn't just go to the bar and grab someone random without being properly drunk and I couldn't drink because I told myself I wouldn't. I still remembered being called a whore and while I consciously rejected being that kind of woman, I knew that it was true. Whatever had broken in me the night that man had called me that name, which caused that shift, prevented me from going out and getting myself wasted like I used to. The whole alcohol-sex-spanking-pain cycle was a thing I knew I was addicted to because it numbed all the shit I felt all the time. And now I had stopped whoring around which I think was one of the reasons shit just went bad and why I felt like my life was unbearable. It was like suddenly, all the emotions I had been suppressing by alcohol and sex were coming out and I wasn't strong enough to handle them.

Whatever. It was always like that. Either I was a whore or I was miserable. It sounds pretty extreme but there was no middle ground. Or I could be both at the same time just like I had been during those last few months when even sex hadn't seemed to help. And since I didn't know how to handle it all, death was the solution I had needed. Still needed.

My phone rang again, interrupting my reverie. I was sure it wasn't Edward this time and after checking the caller ID, I rolled my eyes, contemplating if I should pick up, because it was Alice. I doubted he would call again, so pressed the green button. "Yes, Alice? Or is it Edward again?"

"Bella, have you changed your mind yet?" she asked ignoring my question in a voice that sounded like she was tired of me saying 'no' again and again, because she knew I would say yes.

"No," I replied in exasperation.

"Don't be such a pain in the ass."

"You are the pain in the ass, Alice. Can't you and Rose leave me alone for one day? You haven't left my ass since I got home from the hospital."

"It's not being a pain in the ass, it's called friendship and looking after one another. I know yesterday must have been an awful day for you, but maybe it'll make you feel better if I tell you that Jessica's going to be fired."

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Well, you know," she said casually. "That old whore is ready for recycling and by fooling around with Newton she hasn't put herself in the most favorable position when it comes to parents. I've got a feeling she's gonna fuck it up."

"I don't believe she's in a worse position than I am. She has Newton on her side."

"If it comes out, she's done."

"So am I."

"Nothing will come out, Bella. Nothing about you anyway."

"But thanks to her, everyone in school now knows about my mental breakdown."

"Everyone in school knows about her, too. Why do you think she started talking? To make people forget about Newton and her. She knows it is absolutely unprofessional and that parents who don't like it might want her gone."

I sighed. "I don't see how this situation is any different from mine. I could get fired pretty quickly if they knew."

"But they won't know."

I groaned in frustration. "Alice, you're talking in circles. How can you say they won't know?"

"Because I know!"

Oh, right. "A hunch again?"

"You can say that. But it's more than a hunch this time. It's like… I simply _know_."

"Like with Jasper?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes! Yes, exactly!"

"The more you're into that crap, the more I want to kick your ass. You're not making any sense."

"As long as it makes sense to me, it doesn't have to bother you."

"You sure you don't want to talk to Dr. Edward? Your new best friend?" I chuckled, poison in my voice as plain as day.

"How's it going, anyway? You haven't mentioned your sessions in a while," she asked nonchalantly, but I detected a suppressed curiosity in her voice. I hadn't talked to the girls about Edward and our meetings much since I hadn't felt comfortable in them, let alone think and talk about them afterwards. They knew the basics – that we annoyed the shit out of each other. I knew they were dying to get some spicy information, but I wasn't the one to give it to them. And even though I thought Edward was a dick, by now I knew he wasn't one to rattle out anything about me as his patient to Emmett or Jasper. What he thought about me personally was a different matter, though as they obviously talked to each other about my drinking adventures.

"It's going."

"Bella," she whined. "Tell me more."

"Ask him, you obviously are his friend now. Besides, you always act like you don't approve of shit I'm doing, yet you are always the most curious one. Rose at least gives me some space." I said referring to her strange talk about how she didn't want to be involved, but at the same time not entirely disapproving of me having Edward as my shrink.

"I didn't say I didn't approve," she defended herself. "I just said that…" she trailed off. "Forget it."

Now, she teased my curiosity. "What, Alice?"

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. So, Jasper's in town finally as well, and it would be shame if you missed out on this dinner. Rose would love to have you."

"Alice, don't deflect. What were you going to say?"

"Nothing! I don't remember." She was lying. It was like that morning I had woken up at her apartment and asked her about that weird collision thing and she was all vague about that as well. There was something she wasn't telling me. "So, you're coming?"

I whimpered. "No-o. Besides, I can't drive."

"Don't be theatrical, Bella. I'll send Jasper to pick you up. Get your ass down here. Rosalie's getting married in two months. You don't want to be the one that spoils it for her by not being here because you're feeling moody."

Ouch. Punch. Tears welled in my eyes and I mouthed a curse, becoming angry on myself for letting this shit get to me.

"Oh, holy crap! Sorry, Bella, sorry!" Alice said in a rush, and I could hear real regret in her voice. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean it like that. Damnit."

"It's okay, Alice." No, it wasn't, but I wasn't about to hold it against her. I knew she didn't mean any harm, and sometimes she slipped and said something really insensitive. But I couldn't expect people to walk on eggshells around me. The truth was, however, that I wasn't exactly easy for them to deal with. They were watching me and looking after me almost twenty-four seven, and I was one moody bitch. Rosalie was super considerate, and I think it was simply a part of her nurturing motherly character to be caring and thoughtful, but Alice was a hurricane. She barely thought about what she said, and I couldn't blame her for being who she was. Although saying hurtful things and voicing her opinions was the reason why we had had so many arguments in the past. But the important thing was that she was standing by my side even if she didn't have to.

"Sorry, Bella. Jesus, I can be a real mouthful."

I chuckled, wiping away the tears that were lucky to escape. "Yeah. Don't worry about that."

After a moment of silence – which was weird because Alice was never quiet – she asked again. "So… are you coming?"

I sighed and feeling a little guilty for what she said and how Rosalie might actually feel about me not being there, I nodded. I didn't believe that Rose would need me – her suicidal friend – when she had such an amazing family, but Alice's words made me feel like a worse person than I already believed myself to be, if that was even possible. "Yeah. I'll come."

"Fantastic. Great… Jasper will stop by at six thirty. See you at Rosalie's then."

"See you at Rosalie's," I mumbled, sighing. We hung up, and I let myself cry for a few minutes before finding the strength to take a shower because – although it might seem ridiculous to you – even that shit sometimes required an iron will.

I put some random clothes on, not really caring about how I looked as long as my scars were covered. It wasn't as if there was going to be anyone I didn't know or wanted to impress since I considered the situation between Emmett's parents and me as practically incorrigible. Rose's parents were nice, but that was all I could say about them. They weren't very talkative. Emmett's friends… well. Mostly, they were doctors, and I knew several of them as we met throughout the years, but generally I didn't go for white coats because they scared the shit out of me. I mean, I had slept with a few, but it never had been my first choice. So, I didn't really give a shit about them. But then there was Edward. Yes. Edward would be there and after the phone fiasco I'd better stay away from him tonight.

Jasper was as punctual as the clock. I wish I could drive my truck, purely as a safety precaution, because yes, I might have told to myself that I wasn't going to drink tonight but if I started to feel the pressure was being too much, I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't help myself to a glass of wine… or two. Or three. Or the whole bottle. Then I would make a scene, Rosalie wouldn't be pleased, and Emmett would probably show his wrath by kicking me out, making her finally see just how much he hated my ass. His parents would prevent me from attending their wedding and – if what Alice said was true – it would break Rosalie's heart. But before he could kick me out, I would make a huge scene in which the target of my sarcastic, almost cynical remarks would be Edward. I thought it could be quite funny and dramatic, although I didn't like the consequences. Not even one bit. I had to stay low-key and act innocent to pass this test, because in many ways it would feel like one with Rosalie's, Alice's, Emmett's, Jasper's and mainly Edward's eyes all on me.

It would be the first time since I had been in the hospital that Edward and I would see each other differently than as a doctor and his patient. We would see each other as… _friends._ Oh, what an ugly word to describe him. Dick? Better.

Okay, so I was a little irritated today; maybe a bit more than usual. It was better than when I felt like a pathetic shit, but it also made me unpredictable, snappy and irritable. Everything and everyone was pissing me off simply because it was me who I was angry at the most. I didn't need to be a psychologist to know that.

We were awfully on time, which wasn't my style, but Rose opened the door and gave me a big wide smile and a kiss on the cheek which was quite nice. She led me to the living room that was connected to a dining area and it looked like they were only waiting for us. I felt the eyes of everyone on me and before I could avert my gaze, it fell on that one person whose eyes I wanted to avoid at all costs. His face didn't show surprise; it didn't show anything, and I knew he was Dr. Psycho now. Fantastic. Although I didn't know who was less scary to face – Dr. Psycho or simply Edward. I found them both to be pretty fucking intimidating.

The dinner was… a mockery, to say the least. The only people around the table who addressed me directly were Alice, Rose and her parents. Emmett invited his friend Jared, his now-girlfriend Kim, and his brother, psychiatrist Paul, who had given me a proper panic attack the last time I had seen him. He might have winked at me during dinner, but I dismissed the idea of giving him any attention as I was utterly embarrassed and uncomfortable. Only then I did I realize I was sitting at the dinner table in the presence of two psychiatrists. What would in the past have been a reason for me to scream and run as fast as I could, was now only a very, very unpleasant dinner during which one ignored me while the other tried to impress me. Regarding Edward and his shrink abilities, I had already assessed the risk and knew what to expect from him, but Paul was still a big unknown. I kept myself as invisible as possible, my fingers itching every-time I touched a bottle of wine, passing it to Alice or Jasper. This was the night that was testing my willpower, that was for sure. I knew I shouldn't have come.

Paul and Edward had obviously known each other from UW and were laughing together with Emmett and Jared. Whatever was going on at that end of the table was not good as I saw Rosalie who was sitting by Emmett roll her eyes a couple of times. His parents were outrageously oblivious to their boyish banter. Luckily, being as far away as I could be from them, sitting at the other end with Alice and Jasper, I wasn't involved in their conversation. Mrs. and Mr. Hale was a lovely couple though, in comparison to their counterpart Mrs. and Mr. McCarthy; Mrs. Hale asked me a few general questions about my life, luckily not wanting to go into specifics. Mrs. McCarthy on the other hand, only made sure I saw her spiteful, condescending glare and didn't look at me again for the rest of the night. I think I heard Mr. McCarthy ask Emmett _what is this drunk of a woman doing here?_ and after I swallowed the bile coming up my throat, I snickered at Emmett, winking at him, basically saying _You won't get rid of me tonight._

Have I mentioned I simply _loved_ pissing people off?

So, yeah, to me dinner was a sham, but when I looked at Rose… she was enjoying every minute of it. I always knew that woman wanted a big family, and I secretly envied what she had in her life, how loving she was and what a big heart she had. The children that she and Emmett would most certainly have were going to be the happiest in the world. It was silly, I knew, and I never acted like the envious bitch I knew Jessica Stanley was. But from time-to-time I felt a pang near my heart when I realized that most likely I will never be loved back by anyone who I would describe as my perfect man, let alone share my future with someone who would want to father my children. The idea seemed so foreign and unlikely that I chuckled out loud when I thought of it, getting Alice's attention. She frowned at me, her knowing eyes studying me for a while, before she hummed and shrugged simultaneously, turning away from me.

Nipping on my food, barely eating anything, dinner slowly came to an end and after dessert the parents left the happy couple's nest and went home. When a couple of us stood up to go as well, Emmett stopped us, saying the night was only beginning.

"Emmett." Rosalie once again showed her dissatisfaction by rolling her eyes. It was more of a whine and the one Emmett didn't take seriously.

"Sweetheart, it's gonna be fun! I have my friends here, friends I haven't hung out with in a while and with the wedding coming up; I want to celebrate with them."

"We can celebrate at the wedding."

He scrunched up his nose. "You know how's it going to be at the wedding. I'm going to have to watch myself."

She chuckled but nodded in agreement. I didn't entirely get his point; what he was trying to make us do. Then he went into the kitchen and came back with three bottles - tequila, rum and vodka. I had never hung out like that with Emmett before. We had met a couple of times at the club when he wasn't working at the hospital, but that was it. He surely had seen me drunk on more than one occasion and I guess it never worked in my favor, but I never thought he was one of those guys who enjoyed getting wasted just for the hell of it. The moment he brought out the bottles, Jared whistled, and his girlfriend laughed. This reminded me of college parties. Although I had never been a part of one – since I had been dating Jacob and he was fucking possessive of me – it didn't mean I didn't know what went on. But this felt downright wrong, and in the pit of my stomach I could feel something happening; we were adults and adults were not supposed to do this shit.

 _Hypocritical much, Bella?_

I looked around to study the expressions of the people around me and to my big surprise they didn't seem to mind. Jasper was sporting one of his lazy smirks, hugging an already slightly tipsy Alice to his side who just shrugged a shoulder. Rose was all about giving Emmett the _Emmett-grow-up_ look _,_ but by the look on her face I could tell she wasn't going to say 'no', She loved him, and he loved her back and they were about to get married. I could only imagine what that must be like, so of course, she wasn't going to say anything to him. Jared and Kim had already showed that they were excited to get some of the hard stuff into their systems, so there wasn't any doubt about what they thought about it. My eyes slid reluctantly to Paul's face and when he smiled widely at me, I almost choked on my own saliva. Crap. Crappity-crap. I was surprised he was paying me so much attention tonight after I had basically fled from him the first and last time we met, knowing I had attempted suicide only a month ago. There was a chance that Emmett hadn't told him and that he wasn't involved in my case. But he worked in the same hospital as Dr. Angelic, where I had been hospitalized, and god knew Emmett was a gossip queen.

When my eyes landed on Edward, I was startled when I noticed that he was looking at me, frowning. He hadn't been Dr. Psycho much tonight – he had been having fun, smiling, and being expressive. _Clap-clap-clap_. Although he had never once acknowledged my presence, so that might be the reason he wasn't Dr. Psycho – because he didn't have to be; he had been ignoring me all night, after all.

The moment our eyes met, I knew why it was such a big deal that you knew your shrink personally. It was difficult for me to forget that this man knew intimate things about me in the confines of his office, studied my behavior and drew conclusions from that. How was I supposed to just turn this knowledge off? How was I supposed to know that he wasn't drawing conclusions now when I was among friends, supposedly having fun? How was I supposed to relax when I felt his reading, searching eyes on me as if he were trying to solve the biggest mystery of his life? How was I supposed to see him as a human being when he acted like an emotionless prick whenever we sat with each other in his office? And, please, tell me, how the hell was I supposed to understand him when he acted so confusingly sometimes, that I just wanted to punch his pretty face and ask him what his problem was?

He kept staring at me until Emmett shoved him in the shoulder, getting his attention. He told him something and Edward shrugged, smiling slightly. I looked away while he wasn't turned to me and when Alice put _Cards Against Humanity_ box of cards in my hands, it looked like I was the one who was suggesting we play the game. Very quickly, everyone found their spot in the living room around the coffee table. Emmett enthusiastically set the bottles of alcohol on it and Rosalie – traitor – brought little glass shots from the kitchen. Everyone except for Edward and me, filled their glasses with whatever they wanted. Although I was tempted to drink, especially after that horrendous dinner, I was still set on my promise to myself not to drink, even though it was difficult to resist.

There were two white leather sofas around the table and an armchair. Rosalie and Emmett sat on one, joined by Jared and Kim. Opposite them, Jasper and Alice took an entire sofa for themselves as it wasn't big enough for more than two people to sit comfortably. For a second, I felt a little badly for Edward whose wife had probably stood him up when he sat down in the armchair that faced me. But I soon forgot the feeling, when I plopped on the ground, on a giant soft pillow and saw Paul finding his place beside me.

 _Dear god._

"Hey, Bella, what's up? You gonna give us the cards or what?" Jared asked, laughing. Jerk, he didn't even know me and the familiarity he addressed me with made me grit my teeth.

I smiled a wickedly sweet smile, eying everybody. "Are you ready to lose?"

Rose, Jasper, Alice, Kim and Jared chuckled. "Don't be so sure today, Bella," Alice said, smiling.

"Are you predicting my first defeat ever?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm just warning you."

I shook my head. Silly. I was good at the game and although one's success depended mainly on luck with the cards given, you also had to know the person for whom you were choosing a card. Some people were obvious, easy players, choosing a card that was the funniest or made the most sense. But there were some people who went with the less obvious answer. You had to make the correct choice which meant not always going with the funniest answer. It all depended on the group and level of alcohol already consumed. For example, I knew for a fact that playing against Ellen DeGeneres would be a challenge. Playing against any comedian, actually. They would be a tough nut to crack.

But this party? I had already played against Rose and Alice. I knew how they played; they weren't that difficult to read. Emmett could be a challenge, more challenging than his fiancée; although with the increasing amount of alcohol in his body, I was sure things could tip in my favor. Jared and Kim seemed to be a pretty laid-back couple, but I wasn't ready to classify them as easy players yet. Kim – to me – was a bigger danger than Jared. Jasper could be a problem, too. He didn't speak much, but when he did, you had better listen because he said something that was funny, clever or witty. I assumed it all boiled down to his level of competitiveness. And Edward? Damn. As Dr. Psycho I saw him as a person with no sense of humor at all, but in the few moments I had witnessed, I knew very well, he could crack a joke or two if he really wanted to. Moody bastard.

So, as a queen of this game I put black cards facing down in the middle of the table and gave everyone seven white cards. I put the rest into three neat piles next to the black one, so a person could have a choice from which pile they wanted to take your next card. Everyone looked at their cards and when I was about to ask who would like to begin, Emmett smirked.

"I'm going first," he said loudly. "I pooped just now."

Everyone laughed, and I rolled my eyes. "Go on then," I said. "Pick a card."

He smirked again and reached for the pile, taking one black card. He cracked up the moment he read it and it reminded me why I loved this game so much. It was able to make me smile even when I felt like utter shit. Emmett cleared his throat and read his card out loud: _"What killed my boner?"_

We all chuckled and looked at our cards, some of us pulling the answers almost immediately, while others gave it a little thought, laughing to themselves at the possible answers. We each threw it a white face down and Emmett grabbed them, shuffling. He named all of them out loud, leaving the decision between _vigorous jazz hands_ and _white men scalps_ , which was – of course – my card. I didn't know who played the first; it wasn't even that funny but when Emmett read it out loud he cracked up.

"It's _vigorous jazz hands_ , can't help it," Emmett said after all and I was like… what?!

Edward suddenly laughed out loud. "It was yours, wasn't it, man?" Emmett asked, and Edward nodded and then they high-fived each other.

"Couldn't resist," said Edward.

"I can't believe you remembered it," Emmett replied, and it was obvious to all of us that there was a history with boners and hands. How was I supposed to play against that? "Whose card was the other one?" Kim asked.

"Mine," I said defeatedly.

"I think it was better," Paul whispered next to me, leaning closer.

"Whatever," I shrugged.

So, Edward got the first point. _It's okay; it's the first round, anyway._

"Does this have any connection to that story you told me on our first date?" Rosalie asked, the corner of her mouth twitching as she motioned between Emmett and Edward. Emmett's eyes widened, and Edward laughed. There was a conversation afterwards between Rose and Emmett that everyone laughed at, but I couldn't take my eyes away from Edward who in that moment looked very relaxed, his eyes having that spark again. I knew he wasn't drinking alcohol tonight, not even wine at dinner and I really wanted to know why.

"Hey, Rose, do we have some lime and salt?" Alice asked.

Rose stood up immediately. "Oh yes! I forgot. I'll be back, skip me this round." And she left us, to go into the kitchen.

"Your turn, Edward," said Jared.

Edward reached for the black pile of cards, taking the one on the very top. He chuckled when he looked at it and then read it out loud. _"Why am I sticky?"_

Holy mother of god! Did he really say that out loud? Did Edward – Dr. Psycho – actually say that out loud? I laughed like probably never before. Everyone laughed with me but the sounds I was making were definitely the loudest. I just couldn't help myself. The absurdity of the question with the combination of who asked it made me lose control. Edward was watching me with a genuine surprise on his face, smirking. That was enough to make my laugh disappear – It wasn't that I was having fun…. I was making fun of him. That was all.

"Okay, choose your cards," Alice chimed in to avert the attention of people from me.

"You want some?" a voice asked. I turned to see Paul holding a bottle of vodka. I leaned away from him and his filthy shrink fingers about to say 'no', but in the corner of my eye I spotted Edward watching me as if he was waiting for me to make a decision.

"No, thanks," I said with a great deal of strength.

In the meantime, I checked my cards quickly and when I found the perfect one, I put it on the table, face down. When everyone was done, Edward grabbed the cards and read them out loud; there were: _a defective condom; wiping her butt; Denzel; a passionate Latino lover; catastrophic urethral trauma_ ; _glory holes_ ; _a gentle caress of the inner thigh_.

All of them were pretty funny, though. Emmett was sitting on the edge of the sofa, waiting for him to pick his card, whatever it was; I'd say he played _a defective condom_.

"They're good," he said, smiling. "But I have to go with _glory holes_."

 _Yes!_

"What!?" Emmett exclaimed. "Eddie! No!"

Edward laughed. "Which one was yours?"

"Latino lover, of course."

"Sorry, man. It didn't even make it into the finals. It was between _Denzel_ and _glory holes_."

"You make no logic," Emmett sighed defeatedly.

"Whose card was it?" Paul asked.

"Mine," I said. Edward cocked an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. Playing that card just made complete sense to me. Glory holes… All of them. I mean, not _all_ of them, but you know what I mean. I wouldn't have expected him to pick it, but once again, Edward Cullen surprised me. And confused me.

"At least I got into the finals," murmured Alice, chuckling.

"Who played urethral trauma?" I asked, because that one I really liked, not really knowing why.

"Me," Jasper said, smirking.

I smiled at him. "Good one."

Rosalie came back with salt and slices of lime on the plate. Alice reached for it almost immediately and Jared, Kim and Paul laughed. We all knew Alice, though. It was her normal behavior when it came to alcohol.

"Your turn, Bella," Edward said, and I swallowed. Yeah, my turn. I inhaled deeply and took a black card from the pile.

Oh god… " _What ended my last relationship?_ " Everyone looked inside their cards. It wasn't like anyone besides Rose and Alice knew what had happened between me and James, and I was able to take things with humor, but it was still a sensitive topic for me. Alice raised an eyebrow when I looked at her and I just shook my head. _I'm fine_ , I mouthed. Everyone was done relatively quickly, and I collected their white cards.

" _What ended my last relationship? My vagina_ ," I read the first card, making everyone laugh. I did so, too, because now I was sure that my vagina was the only reason there ever was any relationship in the first place.

" _What ended my last relationship? Ebola._ " Okay. So, this one was hilarious.

" _What ended my last relationship? Micro-penis_." I couldn't stop laughing at that one.

" _What ended my last relationship? Geese._ "

" _What ended my last relationship? 72 virgins._ " I laughed at that one. "Possible." Possible I wasn't the only one.

" _What ended my last relationship? Oversize lollipops_."

"Bella doesn't have a problem with that," Emmett said, and I looked at him wishing he had kept his mouth shut. But he didn't look like he had said it in a mean way; he was quite drunk and even if he aimed for a slightly offensive comment, it only sounded like friendly teasing, so I only smirked and nodded.

"I never had," I replied, shrugging a shoulder, and they laughed. I looked at another card. " _What ended my last relationship?_ _Pulling out_." So, yes. This was the best one. We all laughed at it and I was quite sure that this one was going to win.

" _What ended my last relationship?_ " I asked the question and when I looked at the card, my breath hitched. It couldn't be…. I mean, Rose and Alice wouldn't have played it. Or would they? " _Saying 'I love you'_ ," I choked out, smiling and hoping nobody saw my three-second hesitation. The girls looked as perplexed as me because they knew what it was about, but the others only chuckled.

"Oh, that's real," Kim commented with realization. "Definitely probable."

"So, who's the winner?" Jared asked, squeezing Kim to his side.

I cleared my throat. " _Pulling out_ , definitely."

"Yesss!" Jared exclaimed. "Point to me!"

I was avoiding the eyes of everyone until I felt the eyes of one person on me so intensely that I couldn't keep looking away anymore. Edward was frowning, searching my face, making me get lost in his _I'm-trying-to-understand-you-gaze_ again. But was it really the thing he was doing? Trying to understand me? Sometimes, I saw resentment and detachment in his eyes, and sometimes he was all about pity and sympathy and god knows what else and it was making me sick… I didn't need his pity, not even his understanding. It was all so weird. Why couldn't this man just let me be?

"Bella, give me the card!"

I woke up from the haze and looked at Jared who wanted his black card. I gave it to him and then we played a few more hilarious rounds as they drank more and more, getting equally wasted. I could say Alice was near her dying-point as she started groping Jasper and – poor boy – was doing everything he could to make her sit on her ass. I laughed at her, though, and Jasper earned a few brownie points for keeping her in check because the older we got, the more exhausting it sometimes was to watch drunk Alice. It was about time she had a boyfriend to do it. During the game, I have to admit, I grew quite fond of Jasper. He was really smart, and his cards made us crack up every time. I think I might eventually even be his friend… He earned a lot of black cards as well. Jasper, Edward and me had the biggest amount of black cards, but in our last rounds, we didn't know anymore who was winning and who was coming in last, because the guys were pretty pissed. With every drink Paul swallowed, he was getting braver and braver, casually touching me and putting his hand on my shoulder…. and I wanted nothing but to punch his face and knock him out. I said I was extremely irritable today. During the game, Edward looked at me from time to time, but I never paid any attention to him. Sometimes, it felt like I was attuned to when and how he was looking at me, as if I was hyperaware of him giving me attention. It was uncomfortable.

" _Patient presents with_ blank. _Likely a result of_ blank," Alice read the card. "Go ahead, people! Two cards! Two!" she hollered. She really needed to go home. She collected the white cards and after she read all of them she said. "The winner is: _Patient presents with backwards knees. Likely the result of slowly easing down onto a cucumber."_

Okay, okay, so it wasn't mine, but it was quite good. Or so I thought until it was Edward who Alice tossed the black card towards. My combination was: _Patient presents with a face full of horse cum. Likely the result of my boyfriend's stupid penis._ I thought mine was a definite winner, but as you can see… Edward was freakishly good as well.

"Seems like you lost after all, Bella," Alice smirked.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "The game's rigged."

Rose shook her head. "Nope. I just think you finally found yourself an equal opponent."

"Whatever," I shrugged, wanting to leave this topic.

"We should play Truth or Dare now," Kim remarked quite silently. I think it was more like a joke than a serious suggestion, but when I saw Emmett's face light up with excitement, I knew this wasn't good.

"Yes!" he said. "Rosie, what do you say?"

Rosalie's cheeks were slightly red from the heat and the vodka she'd been drinking tonight. "You sure, honey? We're not in college anymore."

"Come on, babe. Guys, do you want to play?" he asked, excited. "It's not like we're gonna be indecent or anything." To be honest, drunken Emmett wasn't a big pain in the ass. Quite the contrary, I liked everyone more if they were drunk. Maybe I'd like Edward more if he was drunk…

"Yeah, we should play," Paul agreed immediately. Idiot.

"We don't mind." Kim and Jared said.

Alice, Jasper and Rosalie said they didn't mind playing, either. Edward wasn't a big fan, and I said I really would like to avoid playing this game, but we were overruled. So… Truth or Dare it was.

Emmett brought out another bottle of vodka and tequila as both of them were going quite quickly. It must have been around midnight at that time and although we had fun, I still felt tension crawling all around my body, not leaving me be.

"So, Jared? Truth or dare?" asked Emmett, lazily gripping Rose's hip.

"Truth."

"Kim or Alice? Which one was better?"

He just didn't… Rose, Emmett and I knew Jared had slept with Alice a few months ago when Emmett had introduced them at the club; the same night I had fled from Paul, but that was it. I guess Paul knew as well – being his brother and all. But when I saw Jasper's and Kim's eyes widen with surprise, I felt their embarrassment myself. Rosalie smacked Emmett's head, and I laughed. He was more bearable when he was drunk but it didn't mean he was less dangerous when it came to stupid questions and remarks. I bet he was the one who had played that _I love you_ card.

"Oh man!" Jared whined, running his hand over his face.

"Answer! Emmett demanded. "You said truth, you can't back off now."

Obviously, Jared wanted to kill his friend by the look on his face. He shook his head and – very reasonably – said: "Kim, of course." Alice only laughed, and I was glad Jasper was cool with it. Or, as cool as he could be, I guess. It was clear he felt a little betrayed by the news, but what was he expecting? For Alice to be a virgin? I was glad he took it like a man and didn't get all territorial with her and launching himself at Jared.

When the question was answered, Jared kissed Kim and she – being quite cool with it herself – smiled at him in return. They shared a glass of tequila together and I was happy the danger was averted.

"Paul. Truth or dare?" Jared asked his brother.

Paul laughed. "Dare me, brother."

"I dare you to ask Bella out."

I exhaled in relief. _No kisses, no body shots..._ Wait, what?!

I watched Paul smile smugly, turning to me. "So, Bella," he said, moving closer again, our thighs touching. The look on his face reminded me of the one Joey from friends always sported when asking _How you doin'?_ Only on Joey it at least looked funny. On Paul it looked ridiculous. "Wanna go out with me?"

I heard a loud exasperated sigh from the other side of the room and when everyone looked at Edward, it was obvious he was caught off-guard. When I noticed his eyes, I saw that he definitely hadn't meant to be that loud and maybe he didn't even want to react in the first place.

"So?" Paul continued. "Do you? "

"Ahmm," I stammered, leaning away from him. "No."

It was so dumb of him to expect I would say yes. The group howled loudly _'ooooo'_ and I rolled my eyes. "But why?" he asked.

"Because I don't date."

"But why?" Did he just whine?

"Because! Because… I don't. Stop asking me why."

"Come on, Bells," he said and touched my thigh moving his hand slowly up. "Just one date. One night…"

"She said no. Leave it," Edward interrupted, and I turned to him, seeing his annoyed face.

"I can take care of myself," I said angrily to him and then smacked Paul's hand on my thigh. "And you; don't call me Bells."

"Whoa, whoa, people," Emmett put his hands up. "Keep it down. Keep playing. Bella, ask someone."

I calmed down, frustrated. "Keep playing. I'm going to get some fresh air."

Emmett and Rosalie's loft had a nice big terrace with the door from the living room area, so I quickly slipped out of the room. The night was chilly, and I felt the cold wind sweeping across my skin, leaving it covered with goosebumps. My arms and hands were covered by the long sleeves of my black turtleneck as I rarely wore anything that revealed a lot of skin, but it wasn't enough to protect me from Seattle's night breeze. I sat down on one of the outdoor chairs and exhaled deeply, a little white cloud escaping my mouth and I imagined it to be all the tension and anger and just pure irritation that had accumulated in me tonight. Gradually, days were getting more and more difficult to get through and I was finding myself trapped between what I should be doing and what I wanted to do. The fights I battled inside were turning into a big chaos and I didn't know anymore where to turn for an escape. Sometimes, I felt like there was none.

A silent knock on the window interrupted my train of thought and when I looked up, I saw Edward closing a French door behind him. Without a word of acknowledgement, I turned away from him, looking up at the sky. I was so tired of this…

"So, what is the real answer?"

I looked back at him. He was leaning against the terrace railing, his arms crossed on his chest. City lights illuminated his pale skin, but it was dark so I couldn't see the expressions on his face or in his eyes. I considered this to be both, a blessing and a curse. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Was it seventy-two virgins? Geese? Micro penis?" he chuckled dryly, and I would be stupid not to hear sarcasm in his voice. "Or was it 'I love you' that ended your last relationship?"

"What is this supposed to be?"

"Nothing."

I shook my head. "You're crazy."

"So? What was it?" he pushed, his voice mocking.

"None of your business."

He shook his head in thought. "True. But I couldn't help but wonder if he cheated on you or if he didn't say it back, or if it was both…"

"What has gotten into you?" I asked, quite perplexed. "Why are you asking me this? I'm not your patient tonight."

"Exactly."

"So? Stay away from me. I didn't ask for your company." He didn't answer. God… what had I done to deserve this? I chuckled in defeat because I was tired of this shit. "You don't make any sense to me."

"Ditto," he said after a while. "You don't make any sense to me, either."

I sighed, looking away from him and up to the sky. "Leave me alone."

He didn't comply. Instead, I heard steps coming closer to me. He sat down on the chair beside me. My body registered his closeness almost instantly and a new wave of goosebumps rose on my skin, but this time not from the cold. You know, if I had for once listened to myself and all the things that were going on around and inside us at that time, I would have noticed so many obvious signs that were telling me what was about to happen soon, what we were throwing ourselves into… But I was blind, and so was he. We were living our lives, each of us facing our own demons while resisting an upcoming life-altering experience that both of us were afraid to encounter. Yet, it was the experience that we wouldn't miss out on because… it was us. If I had for once listened to myself, maybe I could've saved us time. Or not… I guess, things have played out the way they have for a reason. And whatever we were going through right now had its meaning as well.

"You know you could've called," he said after a few minutes of silence, the mocking tone gone from his voice. Now there was something more like a defeat in his voice. "Yesterday. You could've called and say you weren't feeling well."

"You would've asked stupid questions."

"No, I wouldn't have," he replied immediately. I looked at him raising an eyebrow, his face unusually close to mine. My heart started pounding. "Okay, maybe I would've," he admitted, chuckling. "But I wouldn't have held it against you had you called and said you were not feeling well."

"Are you now?"

"What?"

I looked at the sky again. "Holding it against me?"

He was pondering his answer. "No."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"I know," he sighed, almost in defeat. "I'm sorry for being a prick. I… I had a bad day, that's all."

I was about to chuckle in his face and maybe utter some sarcastic comment but there was something in his voice that stopped me… Almost. "So what now? You're taking it out on me?" I didn't say it to hurt him or to make him feel bad, I just stated the conclusion I had come to by assessing the facts.

He chuckled sadly, and I was glad he hadn't taken it personally by detecting a slight mockery in my voice. "I wish I could say no, but I would be lying," he said. "You frustrate me."

"Ditto," I said. "You frustrate me, too."

He sighed. "It just seems like whatever I do, I do it wrong."

"Maybe you do."

"Maybe I do."

Maybe I should've simply appreciated the amount of information I was getting, information I could use against him in therapy, but I couldn't help but feel like this was getting way too personal.

"Can you read the night sky? See the stars and constellations?"

I looked back down at him. "No. "

He reached out one hand and pointed to the sky. Automatically, I followed the way he was looking, seeing nothing but black cover with an occasional white dot. "Up there, somewhere around this area anyway, should be the constellation Orion Nebula. But in the northern hemisphere, it is only visible from November to February. It's magnificent to see all the colors. The city lights are making it impossible to spot it, let alone see any stars, but..." he trailed off, completely lost in his thoughts. "It's amazing when the sky is clear. Which doesn't happen often in Seattle. "

I watched his face that was now turned towards the sky. He had a rather wistful look on it from what I could see. "My mom and dad have a cabin in a very secluded location, a few miles away from Seattle. I could always watch the stars there. It was always silent, without any city noise... I like it there, " he added and as if he felt my eyes on his face, looked back at me, smiling.

I returned his smile somewhat tentatively, not knowing what game we were playing. "I could never see the constellations in the sky. I had tried when I was a kid but had become frustrated very easily when I couldn't find any. "

He opened the mouth to say something, but obviously changed his mind. "Anyway," he continued. "I didn't come out here to ask you about your last relationship. I was just about to take off and I thought maybe you needed a ride. Jasper's… otherwise engaged, let's say."

I shook my head, smiling slightly. "Why do you think I want to go home?"

"I just… I thought you were uncomfortable with Paul. I apologize I shouldn't have presumed," he mumbled. We sat there for a few minutes in a tension that felt almost like an electric current was flowing between our bodies. I was too afraid to move so I wouldn't disturb it and cause a new wave of unease to rise between us. He seemed to be as motionless as me, as if he felt it, too.

"Hey, are you alright out here? We were afraid Bella pushed you over the railing, Edward," Rosalie popped her head onto the terrace.

"We're fine," we said in unison and it couldn't make us feel more awkward.

"Well," Rosalie chuckled. "Come and play with us."

"I'm going home," I said.

Edward looked at me. "Me too actually."

I thought Rosalie frowned but I couldn't tell since it was so dark. "Okay. At least tell me you enjoyed the dinner."

"Of course, we did," I replied, standing up from the chair. "As amazing as always." I came to her and kissed her on the cheek.

"It was great. Thank you, Rosalie," Edward said, following me into the loft.

We said our goodbyes and then left together. When we reached the parking lot, we looked at each other and thing got even more awkward if that was possible.

"Let me drive you home."

"You won't leave it, will you?" I sighed. "What if you want to get me into your car and drive us somewhere behind the city where you would murder me in the middle of nowhere?"

His eyebrows jumped up, and I chuckled loudly because it was an amusing sight to see him so perplexed. "Why would I do that?"

I shrugged. "Because I frustrate you?"

He smirked crookedly and opened his mouth to say something, but then he pressed his lips together and looked away from me. "Can I drive you home? I promise I won't murder you."

I sighed. "Okay. Why not, this day's been shit anyway."

He didn't say anything but motioned in my direction to follow him. He led me to a silver Volvo, and I frowned because I expected the black Mercedes he'd had the last time he had driven me home. "A new car?"

"Sorry?" he asked as if he hadn't heard me. He unlocked it and just like the last time, he opened the door for me.

"The last time you drove me home, you had a black Mercedes," I explained when he got into the car himself.

He smirked, putting his seatbelt on. "The Mercedes is my dad's. This one's mine." I couldn't overhear the worshipping tone his voice had gotten, and I chuckled. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied, still smiling.

"Seatbelt," he said.

"What?"

He looked at me, chuckling. "Put your seatbelt on."

I rolled my eyes but reached for it. "We're not gonna crash."

His face darkened by seriousness. "You never know. Better safe than sorry."

He started the car, and we took off, sitting in silence, that tension between us again. I could smell him much better now that we were in a closed space – very manly, very Edward-like. Very… arousing. The city was oddly empty for a Saturday night and I couldn't help but watch him from the corner of my eye, the movements of his hands on the steering wheel, how the muscles of his forearms flexed, how focused his face was and how manly he looked and… oh my god. I always did my best to ignore how good-looking he was but sometimes - like now – it was just too hard to ignore. There was something about men driving cars that drove _me_ wild. Especially, when they were attractive men. They just looked like they were so much in control and that was always a turn on for me. A man in control. Not possessively in control, but a man that knew what he was doing. And Edward looked exactly like that type.

"What?" he asked when he noticed me staring at him.

"What?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I am?"

He chuckled musically. "Yes."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for _that_ ," he said, and it sounded flirtatious. Or was I just imagining things because – you know – I was sexually frustrated, and that was making me do and think weird things. "I mean… I don't mind," he corrected himself. There we were again… it was like a vicious cycle – him relaxing and then tensing up again when he said something like that.

"Marcus is going to be back at school in a few weeks. His mother came the other day, telling us all about what adjustments we need to do - all that snobbish shit," I said to change the topic. "I mean, I can't wait to see him, but to deal with his parents again… I'll need more than just happy pills to get through that."

"Don't worry, you'll manage," he said. "I was actually thinking of introducing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy with a focus on stress and anxiety management. I think it would work. I know a great psychologist who would be able to help you."

"What?" I asked in panic.

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy - CBT. I admit, its effects are not as immediate as prescribing pills and it requires real dedication and hard work, but I think it would work for you in terms of dealing with your anger and anxiety."

"What? My anger? You can't be serious!" I said, getting anxious. "You can't just refer me to someone else like that, I don't want to see anyone else, but you. I don't want a psychologist! The deal was that it would be you who would treat me, not someone else."

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, his voice gentle. "It's okay, I'm not giving up on you. I'm not saying a psychologist would replace me. No, we would work together to make you feel better."

"I don't want anyone else," I kept repeating. The thought frightened me.

"Okay, it was just a suggestion," he said calmly. "Don't worry."

I eyed him, my heart beating frantically in my chest. I calmed down somewhat and looked out of the window. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't turn because my eyes were welling up with tears and this was no time for crying.

"Who did this to you?" he asked suddenly, his voice careful.

"What?"

"I…" he trailed off, pulling in on the parking lot behind my apartment. The silence made his voice stand out much more. "I think someone hurt you. No, I know it. Someone hurt you badly. I know you didn't have good experiences with mental health professionals either, but I'm not here to purposefully push you into a corner." I turned to him because I felt the weight of his eyes on me and it was like a magnet attracting me. He had his body turned to me, his eyes gentle, full of emotion. I was glad to discover that it was Edward and not Dr. Psycho talking to me. "I am only trying to understand you," he said slowly. "I want to help you because… no one deserves to suffer like that."

"What do you know about suffering?" I asked harshly.

He took a deep breath. "Would it be helpful if I told you that I know a lot about it?"

I huffed. "Treating patients who suffer isn't the same thing as experiencing it. Books won't tell you everything."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I just…" He looked conflicted, not telling me something again. Why wasn't he telling me things? Why was he taking himself back around me? "Forget it. I hope I'll see on Tuesday."

I watched him turn away from me, an unspoken battle on his face, as I slowly nodded. "Yeah."

He nodded in response, too. "Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye, Edward."

And I left the car thinking that this day was just a complete nonsense.

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A/N **This chapter was more or less just a filler. It is going to be the next one in which we're going to have some warming up, some ice-breaking and what not... Yay!**

 **Tell me what you think.**


	18. This I Did Not Expect

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, the storyline's mine.**

 **Hi, y'all! Do you have your Kleenex tissues ready? 'Cause I sure needed them when I was writing. To enhance the experience I strongly recommend to listen to this chapter's song. It fits PERFECTLY!**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you for the edit :)**

 **And now... get ready.**

 **Enjoy. R.**

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18\. Katelyn Tarver – You Don't Know

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CHAPTER 17

 **This… I Did Not Expect**

" _Can't stop these feet from sinking  
And it's starting to show on me  
You're staring while I'm blinking  
But just don't tell me what you see."_

" _Don't look at me like that  
Just like you understand  
Don't try to pull me back."_

" _Let me just give up  
Let me just let go  
If this isn't good for me  
Well, I don't wanna know."_

" _Let me just stop trying  
Let me just stop fighting  
I don't want your good advice  
Or reasons why I'm alright."_

" _You don't know what it's like  
You don't know what it's like  
You don't know, you don't know, you don't know.  
You don't know what it's like  
You don't know what it's like  
You don't know, you don't know."_

 _Friday, March 29, 2013_ _(13 days later)_

Things were getting worse.

I knew it because the days were getting longer, and nights had become never-ending. During the bright light of day, my thoughts were occupied for most of the time. I was at school, and the kids made me smile from time to time, so I was able to push that inevitable weight of my own suffering farther away from my shoulders. It was easy to forget when I was surrounded by youthful happy spirits. The girls were also getting the impression that I was getting better which pleased me; it meant I was getting less meaningless calls and didn't feel like I was constantly being watched from dawn to dusk. There was, however, a part of me that was a little heartbroken because they believed my lie and I didn't want them to. I wanted them to know just how bad I really was.

The nights were the most difficult to conquer. The moment the lights went off, it was like my mind entered a world of its own. Thoughts and worries started to occupy my mind, making me toss around in bed and stare up at the ceiling for hours. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to kill myself anytime soon. I was worried I'd lose my job, that if I were to survive this, I would be alone for the rest of my meaningless life. Everything that crossed my mind seemed to present a problem of its own. The more I thought about everything, the more caught up I became and that made me look like a zombie in the morning because I wasn't sleeping enough. And when I did fall asleep, there was _him_ and _his_ arms around me. Although it was the brightest part of my days and nights combined, it didn't erase the reality I woke up in. Because when I woke up, there was no one holding me, no one to bring the ease and comfort and the knowledge that _everything would be okay_.

Speaking of Edward, he was the only person I had trouble fooling. Or so I thought. It had been two weeks since Rosalie's dinner and since then; I hadn't seen him relax around me again. It had only been Miss Swan from that time on. He was perfectly in control, impeccably professional and yes, there were times when he would exhale loudly when I pressed his button or clench his sharp jaw when I said something sarcastic or offensive, but he soon composed himself every time. It looked like he was getting to know how my mind operated in his office and this was making me feel vulnerable because nothing seemed to work anymore. With each session, I was getting more and more irritable and sassy, while he was getting more resilient. Sometimes it felt like I was fighting an already lost battle.

The moments spent alone were the hardest. I didn't only feel alone anymore, but I _was_ alone. These void moments I filled with music and books, and watched movies, but remembered nothing of, and doing the exercises Mr. Greene religiously repeated I had to do every day. I didn't know if it was working or not. I guess the mobility had improved since I could move my fingers slightly, but I didn't see it as the big accomplishment that Dr. Angelic and Mr. Greene did. I knew very well it might be the best I could do for months to come.

Yeah… Most of my days were really, really bad days.

"Miss Swan. Welcome back," Edward said when he opened the door to his practice. It was Friday, and I had come directly from school. The waiting room was slowly getting cozier as from the next week he was officially opening his practice. I had seen a young girl here several times; Bree was her name I believed. I think she was supposed to be his receptionist. She was very tiny, maybe even smaller than Alice and had long thick dark hair. A thought appeared in my mind that maybe Edward was sleeping with her but when I had watched them interact with each other the other day, and concluded that it wasn't possible – they were a bit too cold to each other; there was more emotion between Edward and me…

"Hi," I mumbled enthusiastically. He let me in and we moved to his office which I had grown to hate. It had only been once since we had started our meetings that I had seen him in a different habitat – that being Rosalie's dinner – but I knew for sure that being here helped him to keep his Dr. Psycho façade. It was as if he could hold himself back better here.

"How have you been?" he asked his usual opening question once we sat down.

"Marvelous."

"Glad to hear it," he replied, oblivious to my sarcasm. This is what he had been doing in the last sessions – ignoring my sassiness. How dare he?

"How are you?"

"Busy, but good," he said, writing something down. "What do you want to talk about today?"

"Nothing, preferably."

"You might repeat that answer every time I ask you, but we'll always talk about something."

I sighed exasperatedly. "You choose then."

"Why don't you tell me how you have been this week? The truth."

I snorted. "I told you already – I've been wonderful. Living to the fullest, going with the flow, being grateful for every day I have the pleasure to be given… Can it get any better than that?"

"Miss Swan-"

"I bet you have just as lovely and happy a life as I do. Tell me more about yourself, doc. I don't know anything about you."

"I thought we decided to keep this relationship as professional as possible."

I looked at him and couldn't entirely believe what I had just heard. "You must be a really confused individual, Edward."

He frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Two weeks ago you called me from my friend's phone to ask why I hadn't come to one of our sessions, you tried to persuade me to come to my other friend's dinner, you started calling me Bella and then ignored me for the majority of the night, only to follow me later to the terrace and offer me a ride home while being a dick and asking me what is the real answer to the question of how my last relationship ended, making me totally uncomfortable. That doesn't seem very professional to me."

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a second. "While I admit that my asking that was quite rude, I think you don't understand the term, Miss Swan. I am your psychiatrist - it is inevitable for you to share your private life with me. Not vice versa."

"I don't want to tell you anything about me."

"Because you don't want to get better."

"I don't trust you!"

He sighed and touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "Then, I'm afraid; we no longer have the need to see each other."

Had I heard him correctly? "What?"

"You heard me, Miss Swan," he said, putting his clipboard on the table between us. "You said it yourself – you don't trust me. You don't believe in my abilities to make you feel better. How can we work together if there is no trust? Maybe you should see another psychiatrist if you don't feel like you can trust me."

"But-"Why did I feel like he was giving up on me too soon?

"I have had patients like you before – difficult, challenging, resisting treatment. It is all natural - you feel violated, you feel like I am the bad guy here, and that is okay. But the difference between them and you is that they trusted me. They wanted to get better. They wanted to overcome their problems. Maybe they wouldn't admit it, but they came because they needed it and wanted everything to be okay again. But you fight against everything and everyone that might get you out of your bubble of convenience and ignorance. Why is that?" he asked, his green eyes now blazing. "Who hurt you so much that you would rather close your eyes and pretend like there is no way for you to get better? Why are you giving up before you even try to find a way out of the labyrinth you are in?" He was fuming now. Suddenly I felt small and weak because he had seen into me much more than I had thought.

"You don't know what I've been through."

He sighed loudly. "Tell me then. Tell me so I can understand!"

"But…" I trailed off. Before I could allow the tears to come out, I clenched my jaw, ready to fight back. "But you don't know! You don't know, you have no idea what it is like out there! What do you want me to do? Do you think I haven't tried? Do you think I haven't tried to get better?!"

His eyes lingered on me, beneath the shadow of his thick squeezed eyebrows. He shook his head, and it looked like he didn't want to say what he was about to say, his voice was low and defeated. "Well… to me it looks like you are constantly giving up on yourself. You don't believe you'll improve. You are not giving yourself a chance to get better, instead you just worry the people around you who want to help you, but you won't allow them to do so. You push everyone away."

"I'm not pushing anyone away."

"Then, how do you explain Rosalie crying the other day when you told her to leave her to leave you alone when she brought you dinner?"

A bolt of lightning struck my chest at that moment. "What?"

His face became a little more composed as he probably realized he wasn't supposed to say that. "You heard me, Bella. I went to visit Emmett on Wednesday night and there she was, crying her heart out because you had told her to basically fuck off." Okay, so I might have used different words, but it was true. I was so pissed at everything that night. It wasn't a good night. And all she wanted was to make me talk, and I hated that; I hated it when they wanted to talk to me; when they wanted to help me all the fucking time. I didn't need it. They couldn't possibly know what I felt, they couldn't understand.

"Okay, this is enough. I'm not listening to this," I said and reached for my bag.

"You're doing it again," he said matter-of-factly. "You're running away from the truth _again_."

"The truth?" I looked at him. " _The truth_? You're just saying I am ungrateful for my friends!"

"Aren't you?"

I think I was crying at that point. "Leave me alone." And I stood up, starting towards the door. He followed me almost immediately as if he were my shadow.

"You have to make the first step, Bella. _I know you are strong enough_. You just need to make a decision to get better."

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" I turned to him and I was openly crying. "What has gotten into you? I don't even know you!"

He was no longer composed anymore. How could he? He was standing in front of me, breathing heavily from frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. "Is that it then? Do you feel that uncomfortable around me?"

I laughed dryly and through the tears I bet it must have looked horrendous. "How can you ask me that question, Edward? Of course, I feel uncomfortable around you. You're a shrink! As far as I'm concerned, you're my mortal enemy. And this office? It's like a demon's den I go to twice a week to talk to a man who pretends to be someone else while I know, I _know_ ," I beat myself in the chest, and surprised at myself, "that this is not you. And I know you want to keep things professional Edward and there is nothing wrong with that, but you can't pretend like we don't know each other outside of this office."

He watched me for a mere three seconds before he answered. "I have to, Bella! I have to pretend I don't know you, so I don't get personally involved. It is you who can't obviously separate one from the other," he said in his defense. "Why did you choose me, anyway? You knew it was going to become awkward, so why did you choose me? To shout in my face now that I don't act like you expect me to?"

I sobbed loudly now. "No-o," I said. "I cho-ose you-u because I thought I-I would be more comfortable wi-wi-th you, Edward, tha-a-n with someone I kne-ew nothing about. I-I thought that because my-y friends kno-ow you and I know you a-as a normal person, that things wou-wou-ld… I tho-ought that with you things-s wouldn't be so-o hard, that I…" I trailed off because the words were getting slurred together and I felt my body starting to shake from the weight of emotions in the air. "But y-ou-ou are like the-em, Edw-a-ard. I'm just a ca-ase for you, too-o. I don't know why-y I-I chose you, Edward. I do-don't know."

I couldn't see his eyes properly because mine were overflowing with water and I felt so defeated and weak that there was no embarrassment anymore. I just wanted to crumble down and get sucked in by that water I saw in my dreams every night and wiggle out of his arms that were holding me above it because I didn't… I didn't want him anymore. I didn't know what to do anymore. I didn't know if trying to get well even had any meaning… I wasn't anyone worthy of life. I was a lost cause. I had to go… I had to disappear.

" _Bella_ , "and the way he said my name sent a wave of shivers down my spine. It looked like he was in pain himself, his voice coated in what sounded almost like a whimper. He made a careful step toward me and reached out his hand. I frowned, not knowing what he was about to do, but when he tried to touch my arm and pull me towards him, and I stepped away like I had been burned by a jellyfish. Because he was trying to do it again, he was trying to get me out of the water I was sinking into and I couldn't allow him to do so. Not again. I burned for his touch, I needed it but I couldn't allow myself to make the same mistake again. Not again. Not ever.

"Don't to-ouch me! Don't!"

He stepped away immediately, bringing his hands up in the air, palms facing me. "I'm sorry, I'm not touching you."

I felt a big lump in my throat, my body a complete mess as I was shaking, trying to catch my breath. He was there, close, and I knew I needed to crumble because I couldn't do it in front of him. "Goodbye, Edward."

"You're not going, are you?" There was panic in his voice that was certain.

"I-I have to," I mumbled, crossing arms around my torso.

"Let me drive you home."

My eyes widened. "No!"

"At least, let me hail you a cab." His voice was insistent, and I could see how he was fighting to keep himself from moving towards me.

"No. I-I'll be alright-t." And I turned around and disappeared from his office as fast as I could. I heard him call my name once more, but he didn't follow. Honestly? I didn't know how I got home. I don't remember. I was a wreck. The moment the door to my bedroom closed behind me, I walked up to the long mirror in the corner of the room and upon seeing myself I burst into a loud cry, falling down on my knees because… Who was that woman I saw in the mirror? A shell of a woman who I could be; a woman who had given up on herself. At that moment I was empty but full of agony at the same time. I didn't see anything anymore. I didn't have a purpose, I was no one… I didn't see meaning in anything. And all of them… all of them, they tried to help me, but they couldn't. It wasn't their battle to fight. One thing Edward was right about was that it had to be me who had to make the first step. There was no one who would be able to save me except for myself. But I… I couldn't. I was so afraid. The pain had become a part of me. What would happen if I let go of it? It had been a part of me for such a long time that I had forgotten who I was without it. Who would I be without the pain?

That was one of the reasons why I had tried to kill myself… Because there was no one underneath the pain I felt. I had already died inside. It was as if I was like an abandoned shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean. There was nothing inside, and my outsides were ruined too. I was covered in scars, and one of my hands was practically dead… I was ugly and just…

I cried in front of a mirror for a long time, watching my face, being ashamed of who I had become, and remembering Edward's words. He was right about me. I _was_ pushing everyone away, I _was_ giving up on myself because I didn't believe I deserved any of this. I knew people would leave me sooner or later. They always did. So why would I try to get better in the first place? Who would I become without the pain? I didn't know who I was anymore. What if I would never find out?

I slowly took my coat off, my sweater, my jeans and my socks, looking at myself only in my underwear to remind myself who I really was, who I had lost all those years ago when I had decided to become who I am now - this shell of a woman who – ironically - was battling pain while being afraid to get rid of it. Because it was the only identity she knew now. She was no longer a painter, she was no longer her mother's daughter. She was no longer a good friend, let alone a girlfriend. She wasn't a good teacher and besides being with children, she never enjoyed the job, anyway. She had buried her dreams, her canvases and her authentic true self in order to escape the pain. She had become someone else – she had started to live a lie, thinking the pain would go away. But pain is a strange thing. She thought she ran away from it by living this weird life of someone else. But it was only a question of time until the pain started to eat her from the inside out, leaving her with nothing – only the desire to die. Because… what is the life without passion? What is the life without being able to live authentically and truthfully according to your own book? Who are you bound to become if you compromise your own dreams only to be loved by people around you? However… love is something we all need and she wouldn't have made a different decision had she been in the same situation again. Because love was something she had felt in her heart but had never felt from other people – except for her mother – she had felt it from her.

I instinctively started to look for something sharp. When I spotted the scissors on my bedtable, I had them in my hands in a matter of three seconds. I returned to the mirror, sank down on my knees, my butt on my heels. My eyes were bloodshot red, my cheeks almost identical in color, and looking startlingly awful in comparison to my pale body. I could see ribs poking out, the scars scattered all over. My hair was long, falling down to my waist. It used to be thick, but I had lost a lot of hair lately along with the weight that I was losing almost uncontrollably. I was pretty skilled in covering myself in many layers, not showing just how much weight I had really lost. I reached for my hair, silent tears making their way down my cheeks, burning upon contact with my skin because I kept brushing them away from my cheeks and that had left my skin irritated. My left hand was lying helplessly by my one side while I put all of my hair over my chest in two long strands. I grabbed the scissors I had put on the floor and with a shaking hand I cut as much hair as I could, to just below my chin. And then I did it again. And again. I kept cutting, dark hair falling all around me until all of my hair was short, looking spiky as a few strands were longer than the others.

Suddenly, I felt cold air on the skin of my back and instinctively looked in the upper corner of the mirror where I could see the reflection of my bedroom door. I didn't expect anyone to come because I remembered I had locked the door to my apartment, so when I saw Edward standing on my doorstep, looking at me from the mirror, my heart stopped for a second.

"Bella?"

I was already pretty messed up by this point, so there was no immediate response to what he saw. I probably didn't even realize it myself. There was panic in his face as he was looking at the mirror, seeing the scissors in my hand, my almost naked body and my new haircut I had just given myself. I don't remember what I felt, but upon seeing him, I only burst into tears again, starting to shake uncontrollably. He kept repeating my name in that same way he had said it in his office just a few hours ago, sounding like he was in pain. He slowly approached me and kneeled down behind me, the dark room swallowing us both. I could feel him, see his reflection, as he slowly reached for the scissors in my hands, his eyes never leaving my face in the mirror. He didn't touch my skin, only slowly dragging the scissors out of my hand. The moment he was in the full possession of them, he sighed deeply in relief. I kept crying, shaking, crumbling more and more, and wishing I could die. " _Bella_ ," he kept saying, watching me, apparently not knowing what to do. I saw his hands in the mirror going slowly up in the air, until they reached the sides of my arms. He slowly grabbed them, anticipating my reaction, but I only kept watching his face in the mirror through the ongoing, non-stop waterfall of tears falling down my face. The moment his flesh touched mine, it was like a blessing and a curse all at once. I started to sob loudly, shaking even more, but as much as I wanted to wiggle out and not let him pull me above the water again, I couldn't. Because that was how it was when he touched me. Once I was in his arms, I couldn't, I didn't want to keep sinking. This whole bizarre, surreal situation was like my dream. The room was dark, it was late in the evening and twilight had fallen. My dreams were like that, too. I was sinking, deeper and deeper until he came and grabbed me, pulling me towards the surface. Only now it wasn't a dream. I knew that much, and the pain was too real.

When the last drop of my self-control had evaporated into thin air and I indeed crumbled , and he pulled my back against his chest while I cried continuously, sobbing loudly, not wanting him to be here, but so… content that he was here that I stayed paralyzed and let him hold me, his strong arms snaking around my torso as he was holding me tightly against him. He watched me in the mirror while I cried my heart out, his face hiding something unfathomable.

"Shhh," he whispered. "I know, I know."

Did he? Could he really know? "I do-on't want to be in pa-ain, Edward. I-I don't wa-ant to be in pain any-anymore."

"I know," he said, his voice like a melted gold. He turned me sideways to him and by pure instinct I crawled into his lap and put my arms around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, his scent sending my nervous system into an immediate state of relaxation.

"I-I don't, I-I don't wa-ant to die-e, but I-I… I-I don't know ho-ow to go o-on anymo-ore," I kept sobbing. "I don't kno-ow what to do-o anymo-ore. I-I don't…"

"Shhh," he kept repeating, rocking us from side to side. "It's okay not to know. I'm here. We'll figure it out, okay?"

I nodded, holding onto him as if he was the last bottle of water in the world and he was squeezing me to him equally tightly. I don't remember how long we sat there, sitting on the floor, but when my sobs started to quiet down, and my chest stopped heaving, he pulled me away a bit and when I didn't want to comply, he chuckled silently. But he was strong and did what he wanted, anyway. He pulled me away a little but didn't let go, only moved his right hand underneath my knees and his left one underneath my back, picking me up swiftly. He stood up and put me down on my bed. He let go of me completely then and walked towards my chest of drawers, going through a few of them, pulling something out. He came back, and I felt relief rise almost instantly.

"You should put on some clothes, Bella. It's getting cold in here." And he handed me a white t-shirt and checked PJ pants. Only then did I realize that I was almost naked in front of him and quickly reached for the clothes, putting them on.

"You're not going away, are you?" I asked, now fully clothed.

"No." He was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching me. It was hard to see his face because the room was quite dark, only the moon that had risen provided a source of silver light.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"You promise?"

I think he smiled. "I promise."

We were looking at each other until I felt the heaviness of the dark on my eyelids. I fell asleep in a few seconds.

When I woke up, it was even darker in the room, but the moon was higher in the sky, so there was much more silver light coming in through the window. The curtains were open and when my eyes came into focus, I saw a tall, dark figure standing in front of the window, looking up at the sky. Soon, both my brain and memories had caught up with me and I whimpered in the realization of what had happened. Edward turned upon hearing me moan but I couldn't see his face, the moonlight coming from behind him.

"You should go back to sleep," he said.

I pushed myself up and leaned back against the headboard, brushing my eyes with the back of my right hand. He slowly walked back to my bed, sitting down on the other end. I saw how he had made sure he didn't touch me and upon detecting this, I moved away from him too, giving him more space. Now, I could see his face because the light fell at such an angle that the right half of his face was illuminated. "You could've gone home, you know."

He nodded, smiling lightly. "Yeah, I guess I could've."

I didn't reply but sat there, feeling terribly awkward. I didn't know for how long I had slept but I felt much better. I felt… lighter. "What's the time?"

"Around midnight."

There was silence, and I didn't know what to say. It was almost as if we were our old selves again, but at the same time it felt like nothing was the same, because he had just seen me at my worst and that puts a person in a completely different perspective. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

I shrugged, looking down. "For…" I motioned towards the mirror. "This. I…"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for," he said, his voice serious, but not aloof.

I nodded silently. "You should go home, Edward."

He shook his head slowly. "I'm alright, thanks."

I smiled, rolling my eyes. "I won't hurt myself if you're afraid of that."

He pondered his answer for a while. "I know."

"Do you?"

He nodded.

I smiled again at him and it was strange by how at ease I felt now. We sat there for a long time again, in silence, minding our own business. Given the circumstances, it was the strangest thing to feel right now, but… Finally, I felt comfortable with him. Finally, it felt right. It was like he belonged here, like we were both in the same boat now… Like there was something connecting us. Maybe that realization made me change my mind.

"So, are you ready then?" I asked.

He frowned in confusion. "Ready for what?"

I smiled but didn't answer. I threw a pillow in his direction and moved away from him as much as I could while he made himself comfortable by leaning back against it. I looked away from him and focused on the full moon outside, inhaling deeply. "I was born in Washington, in a little town called Forks. It's about a four-hour drive northwest from Seattle. My parents' marriage was failed from the beginning. I never believed my dad loved my mom. When she became pregnant, my dad gave her money for an abortion. By the time I was born, they had split up and my mom and I had moved to Phoenix to live with my grandmother. Dad told my mom that… he would pay child support, but he didn't want to have anything to do with me," I said, my voice slightly cracking at the end.

One would have thought I had already forgotten about the past, but it is hard to forget the things that have shaped you. "With mom, I had a nice childhood," I smiled at the thought of her. I didn't think of her often, but when I did, it was hard not to smile. "She was amazing. She was my true hero. Only now do I realize how hard it must have been for her - taking care of me and working at the same time, trying to pay the bills and make sure I had everything I needed. One day, it was shortly before Christmas, I remember my mom and me going into the hospital to visit my grandmother. I was maybe four or five, I don't remember exactly. Grandma had cancer, but mom had never told me that, only that she was very sick. I wanted to… I wanted to make her feel better so badly. I remember that day like it was yesterday because it was the day I started to draw," I said, smiling at the thought of that old man who gave me my first box of crayons - conté crayons. "It was a good day."

I watched the moon and its surface, its light illuminating my room and started to search for more memories. "My grandma died that same year after Christmas and things… things became bad. Mom had no one to look after me and… it was difficult, but she always made sure I had a block of papers, crayons and paints I could use. Later, she bought me first canvas, and it was one of the happiest days of my life," I smiled and looked at Edward for the first time since I had started talking. His eyes were on me and he was intently listening to every word. "I started to experiment with all sorts of paints and crayons and paintbrushes, sometimes painting with my fingers and nose and ears… driving my mom crazy. But… I was happy, and I knew she would never, never take those things away from me. Soon, things began to get a little better and when I was ten, she arranged painting lessons for me with my Art teacher from school," I laughed silently when I remembered Mrs. Cope and her ancient approach to painting. "It was horrible. I was so bored all the time. The woman didn't know what she was doing. I was way, way ahead of her in terms of technique and the whole approach to painting as art. I had known so much from doing research myself, visiting Phoenix galleries, reading books, experimenting… And she forced me to 'tame my spirit' as she said, saying that some of my paintings were like a bad joke, and it hurt my feelings. I loved painting like that. My paintings were me. They were who I was."

I was silent then for a couple of seconds and appreciated that Edward let me process things before I could continue. "Soon, the kids in school started to bully me for being a painter. They said that I was a freak because I painted and attended lessons with crazy Mrs. Cope… It was hard. I think it was the first time I experienced rejection based on who I truly was. And the more they made fun of me, the more it hurt. The more Mrs. Cope said that some of my paintings were awful, the less I painted… The more rejection I experienced, the more closed off I became. I tried to keep it from mom, but I guess she knew something was not okay."

I felt the first tear drop down, but I didn't bother with wiping it away. I took a deep breath and continued. "You know, I guess a different type of child would face things differently. But I was always like that – feeling everything a bit too intensely. It was always as if all my emotions were like waves, rising and rising until they broke and flooded me without warning. It was nice to feel happiness in every bone of my body, but when it came to pain and rejection and the fear of failure… it struck me deeply. I guess you could've said that I was an ambitious child, having big dreams of my paintings being exhibited at galleries all around the world," I smiled sadly. "But the bullying, the rejection… what I experienced at that time was the first seed of doubt – the doubt of me not being good enough.

"But you know, I was okay, because I still had my mom. And she loved me and loved what I did and even though we sometimes didn't have enough food in the fridge, she always made sure I had at least crayons to play with. Then, I turned fourteen and my world… collapsed in a few months. Mom was diagnosed with the same type of cancer as my grandma. She told me in July, in the presence of my dad who told her he wasn't going to take care of me after she died. In December, six days before Christmas… she passed away…" I trailed off and started crying silently. "She died and… and the only person, who loved me despite being a freak, was gone."

"Bella…" Edward said silently, and I saw him wanting to say something.

"Let me finish, Edward," I said, looking away from him at the moon. "She died, and my dad decided he would take me with him back to Washington. I don't know why he changed his mind but what I thought was a blessing, turned out to be the worst thing that could've happened to me," I said, my voice cracking. "I remember standing in front my dad's house, clutching my bag close to my chest. It was full of crayons and paintbrushes and… I remember feeling that it was the only thing I knew. Like it was the only home I had left.

"Dad lived with his girlfriend, Sue. She never liked me, but in the beginning, she tried to hide it. I didn't feel comfortable there. My mom thought I was given another home, but… I felt like I was constantly being watched, trying not to mess with things, like I could be kicked out for doing something wrong. And all of those emotions I felt… the only way for me to stay sane was to paint and draw and sketch and it was the way I was taking the pain away. Soon, I started to have nightmares – spirals, dragons… attacking me every night, not letting me sleep. I missed mom," I said and sobbed, wiping my cheek. "My sketches started to become very dark. They were ugly, but I was drawing my pain and, in a way, it helped. But… Dad never liked my sketches, he never liked the fact that I was artistic. He made fun of me, only confirming that I was in fact, a freak. So I thought… Mom must have been mistaken about me. Then, Sue found them, and she said that I wasn't allowed to sketch anymore. And I wanted… I wanted them to like me," I laughed dryly. "Stupid girl… So, I stopped. Because I believed it was the only way to make them like me, to make my dad love me. But the pain didn't go away, it only became worse… One night… One night after a dream I woke up, I went down into the kitchen because I was thirsty. I poured myself a glass of water and in the sink, there was a knife… I took the knife," I said, and my voice started shaking. "I took the knife to my bedroom… and put the blade against my thigh, cutting myself for the first time. And it helped, the pain went away, but when I stopped, it got even worse." I was now sobbing loudly and reached for the napkins from my bedtable and sighed loudly. "It went on and on for four years. Knives, razors, even pencil sharpeners. I managed to hide it, only cutting myself in the places people didn't see." I sobbed now, and looked at Edward, seeing his eyes glisten with liquid. He was hugging his knees, holding his forearms tightly as if he was trying to keep himself from moving.

After a few minutes, I calmed myself down and continued. "In school, no one knew about my being a painter because I was afraid they would make fun of me like the kids in Phoenix. Soon, I made friends with the kids from the nearby reservation La Push. I became a part of the group… for a while I felt like I belonged somewhere. I was so afraid they would leave me be if I showed them what a freak I was that I started to be like them and less and less like me. One of the boys – Jacob – later became my boyfriend."

"One night – I had just turned eighteen – I cut myself again. It was my thing I wasn't able to resist anymore. I had urges. I knew it was wrong, I hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop. That night… that night it went horribly wrong. Up until then, I had only cut my belly and my thighs, but I guess the pain got the best of me and I cut my hips and my wrists, going way too deep. My dad found me later unconscious in my bed, covered in a pool of blood.

My breath hitched, and I had to wait a few seconds before I could continue. "I woke up five days later in Seattle, and I don't remember what happened during those five days. It was the first time I met your dad," I smiled at the memory. "I thought he was an angel. So beautiful… I wanted to paint his face," I kept smiling, seeing Edward's lips twitching now in a smile, too. "He was kind and caring and… it felt like he knew what was going on, but I was too afraid to tell him just how bad it was at home. I was afraid of what my dad would do to me, I was eighteen, he could've kicked me out had he wanted to. And I didn't like doctors… The white coats. Your dad was different, he is different, but how could I trust him?" I shook my head. "No, I had to pretend that I was fine… to as much extent as possible.

"I messed up my left hand that night pretty badly. Your dad repaired it and I couldn't feel anything for a few months afterward, but it soon became better and more or less functioned normally. It was when I was in the hospital, that I had my first experience with shrinks. It was horrible… They pushed and pushed, asking me questions I didn't know how to answer, blaming me and telling me I was trying to kill myself, but I wasn't," I said, tears escaping my eyes again. "I wasn't. I wanted to live. I didn't want to die. They thought I was lying, and, that I was crazy. And who was I to object? I was a freak. You know what they wrote down…" I trailed off because he did know. He had read my file. "My dad was furious, I thought he stopped loving me completely. I was discharged from the hospital, but we had to find a psychiatrist, so I could enter therapy. It was one of the worst times of my life. In the period of a few months, I had seven different shrinks, and all of them were the same. The more of them I had, the worse I grew, the more paranoid I became. I was afraid that Jacob would break up with me, too, but he stayed. It was obvious he didn't know how to approach me anymore; he became very careful around me, not knowing what to say… I was in a bad, bad place at that time. Subsequently, the situation at home had become worse, too. My friends from school and I were about to go to the college and Jacob wanted us to go to UW, but…" I stopped, remembering what I had given up. "I had always wanted to go to Chicago to study at the Art Institute. Secretly, I applied and sent a portfolio full of my paintings." Then I remembered a package I had received a few months ago from Seth and stood up from the bed, starting towards the closet. I reached for the box and came back, setting it down on the bed. I sat down and opened the box, pushing it towards Edward. "They replied within a few weeks and offered me a place and a scholarship. I could've gone to Chicago. I could've painted as much as I wanted. I had thought there was no way for me to be happy again, but then the letter came, and I felt like I was wanted, that someone out there thought I was good enough."

I was watching Edward touching my old paintings, his eyes wide as he went through the box. It was so strange seeing him touching such intimate things of mine, things no one had seen for the last ten years. But after holding my almost naked scarred body against his, it didn't seem so strange anymore. I sighed and looked out of the window again. "But my dad had a different plan. You would think he would have been ecstatic by the idea of me going as far away from Washington as possible… but no. He decided to ruin my life by forcing me to go to Seattle with Jacob. And before you ask… Yes, I guess, I could've left after everything I'd been through there, and never look back, leaving everyone… But I was stupid and naïve. I felt that by listening to my father, I could make him love me again. Furthermore, there was still a little, small part of me that didn't believe I deserved my dream. So, I stayed in Washington and let the vision of my lost dream bury my passion alive.

"Slowly, gradually, I stopped painting completely. I stopped drawing, I stopped sketching. I was getting deeper and deeper into something I didn't know what to call. By that time, I gave up on shrinks and psychologists and any help I was told I would get by going into therapy. It was the first time I felt truly, completely lost and hopeless. Things got a little bit better when I moved to Seattle with Jake and our friend, Seth. Or so I thought. I fell into a routine and I was comfortable. Sad, but… content, I guess. I wasn't cutting myself anymore as I wouldn't be able to get away with it… and I loved Jacob. I guess, the only thing that kept me going was the knowledge of someone loving me back. Only now I realize that… what was between us was pure dependency. I had no one to lean on. He was there and as much as he ignored me sometimes and as much as I could see that he wasn't comfortable with me and my depression, I wasn't able to let him go… Until I found him in our bed with one of our best friends."

I chuckled dryly. "I was such an idiot. Leah was from La Push as well. She was Seth's sister and a really good friend. She was a year older than us. Seth lived with her, while I shared an apartment with Jacob. Funny enough, the day I found them, I had an appointment with your dad because my wrist had been acting weird. Maybe it was some kind of psychic premonition of sorts… When I returned home from the hospital, I opened the door to our bedroom and what I saw was a scene from a very, very bad movie.

"I had a panic attack… or whatever it was, packing my bag, telling Jacob it was over. I felt so betrayed. I left immediately, spending the night at a hotel, not wanting to bother Seth because that boy was the only true friend I had at the time. The next day, I took a bus to Forks, because I didn't have a car. It was a way my dad had tied me to Jacob even more, making me completely dependent on him. When I told him what happened, being Jake's vivid fan, he started to blame me, and said that I was making up stories, that Jake would never do such a thing… To be honest, I wasn't surprised. I was the last on his list of people that were important to him. The following day, someone knocked on my door and it was Seth with a worried expression on his face. He said he couldn't believe his sister had betrayed me in such a way. He said Jake was an asshole, and that it wasn't my fault. It was the summer before our last year in college, and he stayed in Forks for two weeks. He said that Leah was going to New York in September, and I could move in with him. You can imagine I wasn't a big fan of the idea, but… I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to live with Jacob that was for sure. So, Seth took his sister's room, and I took Seth's. He was very nice to me. I even showed him the paintings," I motioned to the pictures now scattered all over the bed. "He said I should I try to apply to the Art Institute again after I graduated. And… for a while I pondered the idea, but I grew afraid again. I had already given up on myself. It was silly, but I thought I didn't know how to paint anymore.

"The last time I was in Forks was on Christmas during our break during the last year of college. Seth basically forced to me go, begging me. And because I didn't know how to say no to him, I agreed. Sue didn't want me there, and she wasn't shy in showing her disagreement with me being home. Did I mention that Seth and Leah were her niece and nephew? So, naturally, to piss me off, Sue invited Leah into my dad's house, but Seth had promised me that I wouldn't have to meet her. I knew it wasn't his fault. Sue was a bitch, but… We had a short, but pretty bad fight and I told my dad that I didn't want to see him again. I packed my bag – most of my things were in Seattle anyway – and dragged Seth with me because I still didn't have a car.

"Things changed after that. I felt… pretty much like shit all the time. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know anything… I was sad, disappointed in life and I could feel it in my bones that Seth was about to leave soon, just like everyone else had. I started to drink, I started to sleep around with random guys, something I had never done before. I started to feel the release. You know, it was an irony. When I slept with Jacob, I was so self-conscious about my scars and about how my naked body looked. But when it came to those men whose names I didn't remember, I could have cared less… After graduation, Seth left to travel for a while before settling down. He insisted on keeping in touch, but after I drove him to the airport, I hadn't talked to him until a few months ago when I bumped into him on the street. He said to call him, but I can't. He reminds me too much of the past to invite him into my life again."

I sighed and looked back at Edward who – surprise, surprise – hadn't fallen asleep yet. "So, I was alone. For the first time in my life, I was truly alone. I didn't cut myself anymore, but now I didn't have a way to filter my pain, to forget it, to suppress it. So," I took a deep breath because this was something I had never shared with anyone, "I let go of myself completely and enjoyed my new-found freedom. I think I became addicted to sex, to sadism, masochism… by letting men hurt me, I felt the same rush of physical pain that I had felt when I had cut myself. It was liberating, it made me feel like someone wanted me. I found a job at the school, I met Alice, and later Rose and it felt nice not to have to tell them anything about myself. Before I knew it, I had become someone else, someone I didn't know. I started to live a lie."

I smiled sadly. "Years passed, and things didn't change. Did I feel miserable? Occasionally. I was good at telling myself I was alright. The kids at school kept me sane during the weekdays, then Friday came, and I would get wasted and sleep with someone who I could get a nice spanking from," I said, sarcasm licking my tongue. "It was a cycle I didn't want to stop. But then… I woke up one night – it was almost a year ago – and a guy I was with looked like Jake. He was his complete replica. I don't remember how the hell I ended up in bed with him, but that was the deal when you were drunk as a sailor. I panicked. I might have still been slightly drunk. I had a panic attack after a long, long time of not having them, and I remembered everything. It was like it struck me again – Jacob's betrayal and his lies. I kicked the boy out, but it didn't help. I felt like I was a dormant volcano that had erupted again, as if that guy had been the catalyst, making me burst. I couldn't calm myself down. I drank all the alcohol I had at home, and not going to work for a few days. Then Alice found me in bed, hugging a bottle of vodka. It was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life.

"So," I sighed, "obviously, I couldn't keep the truth from them anymore. But I only told them that I used to struggle with depression many years ago and that I was fine now. And you might laugh at me, but I really believed I was. What I didn't realize was that… the volcano had erupted and as much as I tried I couldn't go back. My past was starting to catch up with me. Shortly after that, I met James."

I smiled at the thought. "Another stupid adventure, what can I say? I know now that I became involved with him because of the pain I was starting to feel again. He was there. He was handsome, strong, and controlling. Sex was amazing, He was forbidden. Married. Father of three… His eldest daughter is in my class. There wasn't anyone more out of the question for me than him. But he brought me physical pain so strong that for a while I forgot about everything again. I thought he was my ticket to blissful ignorance. And then, after months and months of sneaking around, having sex in cars and in bathrooms and god knows where else… I imagined myself to be in love."

I laughed dryly. "Could a twenty-eight-year-old woman be any more stupid? No, I don't think so." I focused on Edward's face. "So, here comes the answer your question, Edward. I thought he felt the same and when I told him that I loved him, he disappeared, getting rid of a woman who was pathetic to think that there could be something more. I knew he was an asshole, but that I had lowered myself so far that I had slept with a man who was married?!" I asked out loud. "You know what is ironic about the situation? That Leah had a boyfriend who had cheated on her. Then she slept with my boyfriend, cheating with him on me. And I, thinking of what a hypocrite she was, did the very same thing. It doesn't matter that he was an asshole and barely spent any time with his wife. It was the fact that I was the same as she was.

"I tried to get back and into the same old regime I had before him, but something wasn't right. I was broken. Betrayed yet again and… then Marcus had his accident and I got into a fight with his father and now I might lose my job and things just… got bad. In the meantime, I have been called a whore and while it has never stopped me before, something changed that night and I couldn't… couldn't return back to who I was anymore. The pain has accumulated, and I don't know what to do," my voice cracked and I looked into Edward's eyes. "I don't know who I am. I am afraid, Edward. I am afraid because I don't want to be like that. I know I am not like that. I know that's not me… But I just… I don't know where to start and how not to be in pain. I don't want to die. I didn't want to die…" And before I knew it, I was sobbing again, feeling my shoulders shaking. "I am so ashamed of myself now. And you might want to leave, and I wouldn't hold it against you. Because I know I am a horrible person."

"Why are you saying that?" he asked, scooting over closer to me, his voice hoarse form being quiet for so long. "Bella, you've been through a lot, how can you say something like that?"

"Because I should've handled it better, Edward. I shouldn't have become this," I said and motioned to my body. "I should've been stronger."

"That's nonsense," he said and reached out for me and I was stupid enough to crawl to him again, finding that peace he had so generously offered earlier. "You _are_ strong, and you _were_ strong. But you can be strong for only so long without the support of a family and the people around you. Of course, you would look for something to ease the pain, that is absolutely natural."

"But I shouldn't have, Edward. I shouldn't have."

"Shhh," he whispered, his hand running up and down my spine. "It's going to be fine."

I nodded, but I wasn't sure I believed him. I had just bared my soul in front of this stranger and while it felt weird that I had done it without more or less any second thought, it only felt like I had given him power over me – the power to hurt me.

So, we sat there, me crying again, sobbing into the crook of his neck, and him listening to my quiet sobs. I told him several times to go home, but he didn't move an inch. When he finally let go of me and basically ordered me to lie down, he put the canvases and sketches and drawings back in the box, placing it on the floor. When I thought he was going to leave, I felt the bed on the other side move. He didn't touch me anymore, and I exhaled in relief. It was pretty awkward as it was, and while I wanted him gone, there was a part of me that was glad he had stayed. I had my back turned, and didn't dare look at him, but my whole body could feel his presence, I could smell him on me and the knowledge that he was looking after me tonight, put me into a dreamless deep sleep.


	19. This Was the Beginning

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. I like to think I own the storyline :)**

 **Hola, everyone! Thank you for all your reviews. It was emotional, wasn't it? Don't worry, the turning point is behind us, now let's take a look where we go from there.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, thank you for your help even though I know you're very busy these days.**

 **Enjoy. R.**

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19\. Evanescence – Bring Me To Life

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CHAPTER 18

 **This Was the Beginning**

" _How can you see into my eyes like open doors?  
Leading you down, into my core  
Where I've become so numb, without a soul  
My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there, and lead it, back, home."_

" _Wake me up inside  
Wake me up inside  
Call my name and save me from the dark  
Bid my blood to run  
Before I come undone  
Save me from the nothing I've become."_

" _Bring me to life  
I've been livin' a lie  
Bring me to life."_

 _Saturday, March 30, 2013_ _(the morning after)_

I woke up to a bright light that was shining in my face from an odd angle. It was unusual, the sun rarely found its way through the grey Seattle clouds, let alone into my room. I stretched my body, feeling a sweet rest and turned on the other side. I closed my eyes to nap for a bit more, thinking I hadn't slept this well in months. I wondered what I had done last night that had put me into such a dreamless deep sleep…

My eyes snapped open the moment last night replayed behind my eyelids. Crying. Mirror. Scissors. Edward. Bed. Moon. Talking… long, long talking. Crying again. Holding. Edward. Edward. _Edward_. Where was he? Didn't he stay? I thought he had stayed. I quickly sat up and looked around, squeezing my eyes because of the sharp morning light. When my eyes adjusted enough, I noticed a piece of paper folded beside me. I reached for it immediately and opened it, seeing the neat handwriting.

 _Good morning. I'm sorry, but I had to go. Call me when you wake up. E._

And underneath the message, there was a P.S. _Breakfast is on the stove. Please, eat._

I frowned. _Please, eat_ … Who was he? My mother? I shook my head and let go of the note, letting it fall back into the sheets just as I let myself fall back, burying myself deep under the covers. I mentally went through what had happened yesterday. We had fought in Edward's office. Then I went home and had a mental breakdown. Oh my god… My mouth dried up the moment the memories emerged from the confines of my – only a second ago ignorant – mind. What had I done? What did he think of me now? Such an embarrassment… And what had _I_ been thinking – telling him everything? Now he surely must have thought I was a crazy, horrible, despicable woman. A whore. _Oh, god, Bella_ … And he stayed with me only to make sure I wouldn't hurt myself… Out of pity. Of course. Crap. Holy crap.

"Fuck," I moaned and buried my face into my pillows. I could never face him ever again.

 _Briing. Briiing._

Phone. It was my phone. It was ringing in my bag. I sat up again and looked down to where the sound was coming from. My eyes almost fell out when I noticed the mess on the floor. My hair was everywhere. Only then I remembered… I had cut my hair off. Yesterday, _I had cut my hair off_. I reached with my right hand up towards my face and yes, it was true. There was no hair… I mean, there was, but I had short hair now, ending at my chin… _What have you done, Bella?_

I swallowed a lump in my throat. The phone kept ringing, and I tried to get myself out of bed as well as out of the desperate confusion I was in, tripping over the sheets that must have fallen on the floor, falling on my knees. Cursing, I got up and got to my bag, fishing out the ringing monster. It was Edward. Crap. It was Edward! I threw the phone on the bed and ran away from the bedroom as if the phone could answer the call itself as long as I stared at it long enough. I stopped in the kitchen and reached for the cabinet, wanting to pour myself a glass of water.

I felt so weird. I felt utterly embarrassed, confused and… _light_. Was that the right word? But I didn't know why. I mean, yesterday had been a nightmare, so why today did I felt like… like something that had been in my way was suddenly gone? This was surreal! This didn't feel normal at all, at least not my kind of normal. I felt like… the weight that was bothering me yesterday unexpectedly lifted off of my chest and allowed me to breathe more freely. Like the things I had always seen as if they were bringing me the biggest pain, were not so… painful anymore. Why was that? What had I done differently?

Was it the result of the talk I'd had with Edward? Was it because I had gotten that shit out of my system? Could it really be that? I had never talked about it. _Never._ Even when I had been going through it all, I had never admitted any of that out loud. At that time, I hadn't even realized how serious it was and how it was affecting me. Was talking about what had happened ten years ago the key to easing my pain? Could it really be that simple? Talking about pain to… get rid of pain? It seemed unrealistic to me. Ridiculous even. I never believed that this shit would help. And _if_ it was true why did I talk to Edward about it? Why couldn't I talk to Alice or Rosalie if that was all that I had needed to do? Why couldn't I open up to them? Why did it bother me so much when they wanted to talk about it? I mean, wouldn't there be a better option? Edward was a shrink for god's sakes, the last person I should want to talk about it with. He was my enemy, my nemesis. The man that knew where and how to strike. But… I know that something about him seeing me in pain and feeling like he could understand was the reason why I spoke up in the first place. For a while there, I genuinely believed he knew. He was repeating that all night – _I know_. But did he? How could he possibly know? Look at him, look at his perfect life, at his perfect father… He couldn't possibly comprehend what it feels like to be openly rejected by one of your parents. He couldn't possibly understand the pain of _that_. What if it was one of his mind games? What if they teach shrinks what to say and what to do to make a patient open up? Oh no. What if I had given up at last? What if I had given him what he really wanted from me all this time? He had pretended to be nice and supportive yesterday, being simply Edward and not Dr. Psycho, sitting on my bed, in my sheets, on my pillow, not in his office, but _in my bed_ so comfortable and relaxed… Had this been his agenda all along? And how the hell had he gotten into my apartment in the first place? Had I really been so shattered that I hadn't been able to question it last night? How could he do that to me? How could he pretend like that? I had trusted him! But…

But there was something. The connection, the look in his eyes - he couldn't have possibly faked that! I had seen it, he was about to cry any minute while I was talking. Why was he an emotionless Dr. Psycho one day… and then turned into Edward who was rude and sarcastic and downright weird sometimes? But there was another Edward. The Edward I had met at the hospital that night and who had driven me home. The Edward that joked and smiled and laughed with a spark in his eyes that had made him look boyish and mischievous. The Edward who talked about his daughter and the stars. The Edward who had reached out to me without hesitation when I was about to sink again. The Edward who I thought I had had some weird connection with that had made me talk about something I had never told anyone. The Edward who made me believe that he could understand.

He said I was confusing to him. Well, guess what? He confused me just as much.

When I had swallowed two glasses of ice cold water, I noticed a plate on the stove, covered with aluminum foil. I slowly approached it and uncovered the plate, seeing a mountain of freshly made pancakes, still quite warm. Talk about confusing… Why would Edward bother with making me breakfast? Beside the plate I noticed a bottle of maple syrup, fried bacon, whipped cream, and fresh blueberries… Where the hell did he get fresh blueberries? I certainly did not have them in my fridge.

I took a plate from the dishwasher. I wasn't even hungry, but he had made an effort and it was kind of sweet… please pretend I didn't say that. I put one pancake on the plate and topped it with a bit of maple syrup, whipped cream, blueberries and dug in. It was… awful. Mediocre at best, but I took a few more bites. No… it was good. Very tasty actually, so I finished the pancake. Hmm… Yummy. Delicious? Mouthwatering? I huffed in frustration as I put two more pancakes on my plate, topping them with more cream, syrup and blueberries. Where did he learn to cook like this? After three pancakes, I had another one because… you know, it wasn't like they were _that_ good… I lied. It was just that he had made so many and it would be such a waste to throw them away. Besides, suddenly, out of nowhere, I just realized I was hungry.

After I was done, my belly was so full that I thought I wouldn't be able to move. I went into the bedroom, avoiding my phone, afraid it would start ringing again and entered the bathroom. When I noticed my reflection in the mirror, I almost threw up everything I had just eaten. My hair was… it was horrible. How could Edward keep looking at me yesterday and not laugh? Or cry? _What had I done?_

To this day I have no logical explanation as to why I cut my hair. I guess I didn't know what to do with the scissors and the hair reminded me of who I was and didn't want to be anymore. So, I just cut it off.

I sighed loudly and moaned, the sound echoing around me. I removed my clothes and took a quick shower, not even touching the spiky mess on my head, thinking that I had to call Alice and ask her to arrange an emergency hairdresser appointment as soon as possible. You know, she had connections. After I was done, I brushed my teeth, went into the bedroom and reached for my phone. I had three missed calls - one from Edward and two from Alice. Well… just the person I needed.

"Alice?" I asked when she picked up the phone.

"Bella? God, do you have any idea how freaked out I am?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I just got off the phone with Edward. Are you alright?"

I was confused. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Alice, what's going on?" I asked and because I was paranoid, suddenly a thought occurred to me… what if Edward had told Alice everything?

"I am not sure myself, that's why I'm asking."

"Yeah…?" I said. "I'm fine. What did he say?"

She huffed. "Nothing. I give him my key and he doesn't call? What am I? A charity? I need something back in return. I am your friend! I deserve to know what happened! Spill it!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" I said, processing what she just said. "You gave him your key?" So, that's how he got into my apartment yesterday. Alice had a spare key to my apartment. After I had come back home from the hospital I had to have my door repaired because they had basically barged into my apartment the night of Rosalie's dinner. When I had asked her why she didn't use her key, she said she hadn't had it with her. Well… fair enough. It wasn't like I wanted them to get into my apartment at all at that time, but it cost me three hundred dollars to have the door fixed… Money I would never get back. Alice and Rose offered to repay me, but I couldn't possibly accept their money.

"Yeah. He told me you had left his office a bit… discomposed yesterday and he wanted to make sure you were alright. He just didn't know if you would open the door for him. He scared me; he said you were crying."

"Discomposed?"

"Don't deflect!"

I cleared my throat, rolling my eyes. "I might have been."

"God, Bella. I felt like I haven't been able to relax until he messaged me that you were okay. But it was all I got. A message!"

"A message when? I don't understand; Alice, explain everything to me in a chronological order. Please?"

She groaned in exasperation. "So. Yesterday, he called me that you had stormed out of his office being pretty distressed. He came over and I gave him my key, so he could make sure that you were okay. He looked genuinely panicked, and he frightened the shit out of me. I wanted to go with him, but he said he had to talk to you alone because it was between the two of you and that he would give me a call. And I said okay, well, I guess I should mind my own business. But then he didn't call. All he did was he sent me a message shortly before midnight saying that you were fine. And this morning, he finally picked up his stupid phone and calmly told me that you were perfectly fine and sleeping in your bed like a teddy bear! What the fuck happened?"

Jesus. What a mess. "Nothing. I was a little… hmm… angry yesterday, but we talked a bit and… hmm… I felt better afterwards. And then he went home. After the talk. So, he probably… ahmm… he probably just forgot to call because it was so late, and he just texted you and… hmmm… he called you in the morning…?"

There was silence on the other side and I could hear the wheels in Alice's brain turning as she tried to figure this whole thing out. "Are you okay, Bella?"

"Yeah. I just… slept a lot last night. I'm not used to that."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"What? No, no, no, no, he didn't hurt me… I mean, he helped me, we had a good chat yesterday."

She sighed. "Idiot. He could've called."

I sighed, too. "Don't be angry with him."

"I'm not. He was really nice this morning but didn't tell me anything! It's just that you sound weird, so I thought maybe he lied to me about your being fine."

"No, no… no, he didn't."

"Bella, are you telling me the truth? Because I like Edward - I think he's a decent man - but if he hurt you I am going to turn his face into oatmeal, do you understand? I don't care if he's Jasper's brother or not. If he said something to you that he shouldn't have, I'll make sure Jasper will be the one to beat him up first," she threatened, and I knew Alice well. She wouldn't be afraid to confront Edward about anything.

"Alice! Everything's okay."

"But you sound so weird," she said, and I could detect suspicion in her voice.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "I'm just… I have a little problem."

"What's up?"

"Ahmm," I cleared my throat. "I might have tried to cut my hair…"

Alice groaned. "Oh, Bella. No."

"Yes. I might need a hairdresser appointment as soon as possible."

"How soon?"

"Today?"

She sighed. "Okay. I'll see what I can do. Is it really that bad?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, it is. It's like… a bad eighties haircut."

She chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll take care of that. I'll give you a call when I know more."

"Thanks, Alice. You're the greatest."

I heard her chuckle. "Finally, a word of appreciation. Sounds nice from you. See ya."

"See ya," I sighed and hung up. Was I really that selfish? Was I really that ungrateful for my friends as Edward had said yesterday?

I didn't call Edward, and he hadn't called back again, either. I cleaned the mess on the floor I had made yesterday, tossed the box with my paintings in the corner of the room and still dressed in my robe, smelling like a strawberry, I plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. I switched to Sponge Bob and I must have drifted off to sleep again because I woke up abruptly to the ringing of my phone. I reached for it, still lying on the sofa and seeing Alice's ID, I picked it up. "Hello?"

"So, are you ready for a new haircut?"

"What? Do I have an appointment today?"

She chuckled. "Have you ever doubted my abilities? I can pick you up in ten minutes."

"So soon?"

"What are you waiting for? For that disaster on your head to grow back?"

I smiled. "No. I'll be ready."

"Good. See you soon."

I brushed my eyes with the back of my hand and shook my head. I was really heavy-eyed today. I guess my body was catching up with all those years of not sleeping properly. I put a black turtleneck and jeans on, ignoring how loose they fit on my hips, and tried to brush that dark mess that was my hair now. I felt like I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror and not think about last night.

Alice was true to her word. As punctual as ever, she knocked on my door in exactly ten minutes and when I opened it, her mouth fell open in shock. "Holy mother of Jesus!" she said and then burst out laughing. "What have you done?"

I rolled my eyes. "So, are we going or what?"

She laughed again. "When you said you tried to give yourself a haircut, I thought you tried to trim your ends, not tried to shave your head with scissors."

"Shut up, Alice."

"Okay, okay. Let's go and take care of it," she grabbed me gently. "Bernardo will enjoy this."

I closed the door behind us. "Bernardo?"

"Yes. He's amazing. Such a sweetheart to squeeze you in at the last minute."

"Yeah. Such a sweetheart," I joked sarcastically, but not in a mean way. Alice looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the staircase. "What?"

"Nothing. You just… nothing."

"What?"

He shook her head and started walking. "Nothing! Come on! We'll be late."

I rolled my eyes again because it was hard not to when you were around Alice. We arrived at the salon soon thereafter and when Bernardo – a tall tanned guy - saw me, he clasped his hands, loudly exclaiming _madonna mia!_ making Alice crack up so loudly that everyone in the room looked in our direction. I couldn't help but laugh with them because… I didn't know why. I just laughed. My hair did look pretty ridiculous. Bernardo sat me down in a black chair and grabbed his scissors, taking care of my hair quickly. He murmured something in Italian here and there; keeping Alice entertained while she watched us from afar. I had to admit that Bernardo was very skilled because before I knew it, my hair was done. Because I cut it quite short and irregular, he cut it even shorter, leaving it longer on the right side. It looked awful – my hair was almost trimmed into a boy cut all around my head and then there were these long waves on one side - and just when I was about to look at Alice and scream, he flipped the longer portion of hair to the left side where it fell graciously in soft beach waves into my face, revealing the right side where the hair was contrastingly short.

My eyes widened, and I would have never expected that the style would look so… good on me. It looked amazing.

"Wow."

"Bernardo. I. Am. Speechless," said Alice, clapping theatrically, kissing him on the cheek.

"I would-ah recommend-ah a red _ombré_ on this part of-ah hair-ah," he said with a very strong accent, touching my beach waves.

"Hombre? Doesn't that mean a man in Spanish?"

"Silly, Bella," Alice shook her head. "It's a coloring technique where one color is fading into another. And FYI, _ombré_ means shading, and it's French."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"So, do you want it?"

"What?"

"Do you want it? A red _ombré_?" she asked.

"What is it going to look like?" I asked, suddenly fearful. I had just gotten my new hair. I wasn't going to spoil it by some red man.

Alice sighed. "Bernardo, do you have any pictures with _ombré_ done?"

"Of course-ah," he said and disappeared only to come back in a few seconds with a digital camera in his hands. He showed us a few pictures with the so called _ombré_ and I must admit… I liked it. I asked Bernardo what shade of red he was planning to use, and he showed me a very subtle shade of red… brown red. Auburn. My hair had a red shade to it naturally, and I liked how he had picked up on that in such a short amount of time. This color of auburn was a little more intense, but I wasn't afraid that it would look bad. Bernardo had proved to me that he knew what he was doing, so I agreed. I was getting an _ombré_. And it wasn't a man.

We spent two more hours in the salon until my hair was done. Truthfully… it was incredibly well-done. The rich auburn on my locks looked very natural in contrast to my pale skin, gradually fading into my natural hair color. I felt like a new human being. When I pulled out my wallet to pay for this little adventure, Alice stopped me, shaking her head. "My treat."

"But, Alice! It must be expensive."

She winked at me. "Bernardo always gives me a discount."

"Alice, I don't think-"

"Stop it. This time it's on me." And before I could argue further, she had paid for it. We thanked Bernardo again and then got back into Alice's car.

"How much was it?" I asked once we were seated.

"Let it go, Bella," she said. "Don't make yourself feel guilty. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have paid."

"But, Alice-"

"Stop it. Enough. You can pay for coffee now, okay?"

I smiled, and she started the car. "Okay."

We went for coffee at a nearby department store and I couldn't stop looking at myself in every reflective surface we passed. Alice was laughing so much at me it didn't take long before I was cracking up myself. This day just felt downright weird. Yesterday, I had felt like my life was done. Like I was done. For good. And now? I felt like I could breathe rainbows and unicorns. Okay, so maybe not like that, but my new hairstyle and color were making me feel kind of… empowered? Or maybe it was the pancakes. Not that pancakes made me feel empowered, but maybe Edward had mixed drugs into them as a part of his wicked plan.

"You know, I think you should've changed your hair a long time ago," said Alice on our way home.

"Yeah," I agreed, thinking. "Maybe I should've."

"I really like it."

I smiled. "I like it, too."

She laughed. "Rose is going to love it."

"Are they at her parents' house this weekend?" I asked. She mentioned yesterday at lunch something about that.

"I think so. Emmett wasn't very happy about it."

I chuckled but then frowned, remembering what Edward had said. "Do you know that I made her cry?"

Alice looked at me. "What?"

"On Wednesday," I said with a lump in my throat. "She brought me dinner, but I wasn't well and I… I… Let's just say that I wasn't nice."

"Oh, god, Bella."

"I know."

Alice sighed, lost in thought for a few moments. "You know, Bella... I didn't want to tell you anything because I thought… Why would I put another burden on your shoulders, but…" she sighed. "Rose hasn't taken your suicide attempt very well. I know it might seem like she's okay because she is trying to look okay around you, but…" Alice shook her head. "She's worried, and she wants to help you, but she feels… hopeless. You are pushing her away and… well. Let's just say that it doesn't feel nice. I don't like it either, but I think I understand that it bothers you that we are on your tail constantly. Rose is different. She just wants you to be happy and overlooks little details sometimes. But we love you and you know Rose… She feels like she's not helping if she's not interfering in one way or another."

"I'm not…" pushing anyone away, I was going to say. But I was. I was pushing everyone away.

I felt tears coming. "Alice, I'm sorry."

"Oh, Bella, don't cry. I didn't want to… Shit!"

"It's okay," I said.

"No, it's not. I keep making you cry. I know I might sometimes forget about the seriousness of it all, but it doesn't mean I am not aware of it."

"No, it's just… I didn't want to be such a heartless bitch."

"Bella, you're not heartless. You're going through a shitload of problems. No one expects you to be the most considerate person in the room."

I huffed. "Edward does."

"What?"

"I mean… before he came to my apartment, we had that fight in his office and he might have said something about me being… selfish and ungrateful and just… basically making people miserable."

"What? How could he?"

"No, it's okay, Alice. I know he was right. My depression doesn't excuse my behavior. It is not an excuse for me to hurt other people. I never wanted to do that."

"Bella," Alice moaned, reaching for my hand. "You're not a bitch. I mean, yes you are. You are my bitch."

I laughed. "God, Alice."

"What? Isn't that true?"

"Watch the road."

She laughed, and we left the topic. She dropped me off at my apartment and went home, saying she needed to Skype with Jasper. I laughed at that. Kids… I ran my hand through my amazing new hair and slowly went up the stairs, pulling out the key to my apartment. It was around seven o'clock already and I was glad I was home. I was really sleepy. And hungry… Oh, pancakes. I still had pancakes left.

I put the key into the lock and turned it to the right, only to discover that the door to my apartment was already open. My heart jumped into my throat and I swallowed hard, pushing the door ajar. I walked into the apartment, hundreds of scenarios running through my mind, and in eighty percent of them I ended up dead. When I saw a light coming from my living room I braced myself, certain I was going to face death tonight. Why did my wish have to become true when I least wanted it?

With a heart pounding so loud that I heard it in my ears, I entered the living room, only to see Edward sitting on the sofa, watching Sponge Bob. I cocked my head to the side, completely dumb-struck. It would have been better if it had been a murderer.

"Edward," I said, my voice breathy and full of relief that I wasn't going to die tonight. Or maybe I was – die of embarrassment that is.

He turned his head to me immediately, standing up from the sofa. He was the most casually dressed I had seen him, only wearing a pair of perfectly fitting jeans and a dark green Champion hoodie, his hair a mess. His appearance was very boyish and there was no way this man was thirty-five. He didn't look any more relaxed than me. In fact, he seemed to be quite nervous himself. "Hi, Bella."

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes found mine and I couldn't entirely understand the look in them. "You didn't call."

I laughed, and it unintentionally came out rather wry. "If you knew me, you would know I don't like to be told what to do."

The corner of his lips twitched up. "Why do you think I don't know that?"

"Because you're telling me you came here because I didn't call. Are you checking up on me?"

"I just want to know why."

"Well, if you had known I don't usually do what people tell me to do, you wouldn't have had to ask."

He raised his brows. "Was that the reason then? You didn't call out of principle?"

No. "Yes."

He eyed me quizzically for a second and then sighed, his shoulders falling down. I hadn't even noticed his tense posture. "I don't believe you."

I clenched my jaw. Were we really getting into this again? "You can believe what you want."

"Look, Bella," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I came here to make sure you were alright."

I crossed my hands under my breasts. "Why wouldn't I be?"

During this whole exchange, we never looked away from one another, as if we were in some kind of battle, holding our heads high. "Can we talk?"

I felt my heart quicken, my mouth dry up. There it was. He was here to take me to the mental health hospital, so they could give me electroshock and never allow me to see daylight again. He thought I was crazy. He thought I was psychotic, just like he'd said weeks ago. He thought I was a danger to myself and to the people around me. Christ, in a delirium I had cut my hair off yesterday, almost naked, crying and sobbing like a wounded animal. It was his plan. It had been his plan all along; there was no doubt about that. He had a key to my apartment and that was how he had gotten in here. He was like them. And I had failed. I had failed and given him everything I was trying to protect.

No, I didn't feel light anymore. I felt embarrassed, ashamed and – most of all – frightened. What could he possibly want to talk about?

"Bella?" he asked, bringing my attention back to the room. "Shall we sit down?"

"I'm okay."

"Please," he said, his voice gentle, but I saw apprehension in his eyes. Apprehension and nervousness. Why was he nervous? Was this one of his games, too? Was he trying to make himself look vulnerable?

I nodded slowly, somehow knowing he wouldn't accept no for an answer and he motioned to the sofa behind him. I slowly sat down as far away from him as possible and noticed how he briefly checked the watch on his wrist. "So? What do you want to talk about?"

He looked back into my eyes and finally started. "I came here to make sure that you were okay after what happened yesterday. I want to apologize for not being… more considerate in our last session."

"Forget it," I said, shaking my head as if to shake away the embarrassment.

"No, hear me out," he insisted, his voice strict but not superior. I saw him deep in thought, his eyes roaming all over the room as he was trying to put his thoughts into words. "We didn't hit it off well, and I am incredibly sorry for that. Trust me, Bella, when I say that it was my intention to help you and to find a way to… connect with you. But you…" he sighed, running his hand through his hair again. "You frustrate me, Bella. Every time I feel like I know who you are, you do and say things I least expect you to do or say, pointing me in a different direction. You're like a chameleon sometimes. I find you and then you disappear and… It is so hard to read you. I have never known anyone like you in my life."

"Read me?" I echoed, frowning. What was he getting at?

He smirked, but it wasn't a mischievous kind of smirk. It was rather sad. "I'm very good at what I do, Bella, and that's because I can read people and anticipate their reactions. I can see them for who they are, what they hide and what they don't know themselves. Well, generally speaking. Most of us are predictable – we all have the same kind of brain after all, we operate on the same program. It is what I studied, what I learned about in medical school. But even before that…" he trailed off, his voice growing intense, his eyes reflecting the emotion. "I always somehow could tell who I can trust and who's full of bullshit. It feels sometimes like I can read minds," he said, shaking his head at the nonsense of it. Yeah, it sounded crazy. I always knew shrinks were crazy. "But you, Bella? I have no idea what to make of you. Even after what you told me yesterday, a few things started to make sense, but it still doesn't tell me, doesn't show me who you are and where I should begin searching." At the mention of last night, I looked away.

"I swear, you drove me crazy a few times. You were arrogant, sarcastic, ignorant and outright disrespectful at times. But then…" he stopped talking again, getting frustrated at the thought of me being all those things. "But then I remembered that woman in the hospital months ago who would fight the whole world only to make sure that a little boy was okay. I saw how much you cared for him. I saw how your face changed every time you mentioned him, how there was genuine worry in your face. And… I thought it was admirable. I couldn't understand it - why that boy meant so much to you and why you hated his parents so much. I admit," he said, smiling tentatively, "that Aro Volturi is one of the biggest pricks I have ever met, but…" I laughed when he said that, and he smiled in response as if it was some automatic chain reaction. Then I realized I was crying again at the mention of the things that affected me deeply – like Marcus or his parents. "Your involvement seemed a bit too much at times. And I didn't understand why that was. Not until yesterday."

"Please," I said, shaking my head, not wanting to go there. He was explaining himself. Why? I didn't know. I didn't know where he was going with this.

"Your father hurt you. He betrayed you. He didn't give you the space to be yourself. You were forced to shut down until there was nothing left of you. It only makes sense that you try to give the children in your class the things that parents might sometimes forget. And you know what? While I think that you go beyond being professional and tactful," he smiled softly, "I think it's wonderful. You talk about 'your kids' at school and your face lights up." I nodded because he was so right. _So right_. "Because Bella… your words of encouragement may one day help them to make the right decision for themselves. You could take your pain and morph it into something bad, you could easily take that negativity from your experiences and not believing that there is another way, you could make those children believe the same. But you're not doing that." I could see there was more to his words, but I knew he wouldn't explain it if I asked.

I touched my wet cheek. "But… But how-"

"How do I know? Marcus. The way he talks about you? For a while there I couldn't believe we were talking about the same person. I couldn't possibly tell him that it wasn't you who saved him. Because in a way, it was." He was silent, and I let the silent tears find their way down my face. "Every time I met you I saw these two personas who just didn't go together and… You made me so angry. And then there was your suicide attempt… At that point, I knew something wasn't right."

I watched his face for a good minute, trying to figure out what was he getting at. And then it clicked. I cleared my throat, wiping my tears away. "So that's it… You became my shrink because you wanted to figure me out!"

"Yes. No. Yes…"He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking that clearly at the time. You needed help. Urgently. And, honestly, at first, I didn't want to have anything to do with you. When Emmett suggested the idea, I knew he was joking. He knew I wasn't your fan. But then it got to my father and… let's just say that I felt like I could help you and that would maybe help me get over that anger, that strong… desire and need to understand you. I wasn't used to not being able to know what I can expect of the people around me."

I stood up, feeling hurt. I pointed a finger at my chest. "I am just a fucking challenge for you!" _I didn't matter, I didn't matter…_ There was no connection. It was just him trying to satisfy his sick need.

He stood up, too, his eyes wide. "No! Bella, please, don't get me wrong, I'm trying to explain things to you."

"Well, you are! And you do it well. You know, you don't have to try anymore, you got what you wanted. You know everything! Now go away!" Was I sobbing again? Oh my god why were we getting into the same shit again?

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I have never…" he trailed off, his hands in his hair now. "Please, don't cry. I… I don't want to hurt you, please. I admit that my intentions might not have been… honest and entirely selfless but I can't possibly leave you like this."

"Like wha-at? Every-everyone le-leaves. I don't ne-need your fucking pi-pity."

He shook his head vehemently, moving towards me, his hands restless. "It's not pity. I'm not like that. I won't leave. Not me. _Bella_ ," he said, and he said it like that again, like he fucking knew what I felt in my chest and in every stupid part of my body. I saw him moving closer to me, his fingers twitching until he fisted his hands, and I was just stepping away from him. "I know what it feels like. And I am so grateful for what you shared with me yesterday. Honestly. I came here to thank you for that. I know how hard it is to process that type of pain, to feel it every day, let alone talk about it. It was courageous, Bella. To talk about it… it's hard. I know. I understand. And I believe you're in pain. But by talking, we let go of the heaviest burden we carry," he said, his voice passionate and intense. "I am a realist, Bella, and I am not going to lie to you. Maybe, that burden is not going to disappear soon or maybe ever. But acknowledging and later even accepting everything that has happened, taking a step away and trying to get over it, is often a way out from the messiest place we find ourselves in."

I wiped my cheeks and hugged myself tightly. He continued. "I know how that feels. Challenge or no challenge, I couldn't possibly give up on you now. Not now that you have made your first step and opened up to me. There are no words to describe the strength inside of you."

Why was he making me cry so hard? Why was he saying these words? And why was he saying them with such a gentleness and honesty as if he truly believed them? Could he really mean it?

"Actually, I want to make a proposition to you. That's also the reason why I came," he said and that made me look at his face. "Sit down, Bella, please. You're shivering."

"I'm o-okay," I mumbled, but I obliged, taking my place on the sofa again. He sat back down, too and took a deep breath.

"I want us to be friends," he said bluntly, and I was so startled that even my tears stopped falling.

"What?"

"I've thought about it a lot, Bella. I tried to stay professional, but that is simply out of the question now. I can't keep myself from getting angry and frustrated around you and… You make me react emotionally. Besides, you don't seem to respond to conventional treatment, anyway. I think we both would benefit from a bit more… personal approach to your therapy sessions."

"Friends?" I couldn't believe he was really suggesting it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I want you to feel comfortable around me. I want you to trust me. I want you to let go of your pain. I know you can do it. I want you to know what the world without it feels like."

"But you're still a shrink, Edward."

"I don't want you to think of me like that."

It sounded too good to be true. "So… no office?"

He shook his head. "No office."

"No stupid questions?"

"No stupid questions. We'll discuss anything you want. And if you feel like you want to tell me anything, you'll do it when you want to and how you want to."

"No Dr. Cullen?"

He smiled. "No Dr. Cullen."

I nodded. "Okay."

He cocked his head to the side and raised his brows. "Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

He smiled at me widely and nodded. "Thank you. I was… I was afraid you'd kick my ass."

"Well, you did basically break into my apartment. I feel like I have a reason to kick your ass."

"Touché."

"So," I started, calming down slowly. "Where would we see each other if not in your office?"

"Anywhere you want. The park, a restaurant, a café… we can meet here if you like."

For some reason I felt guilty. "It feels like a hell of a lot of sacrifices on your side, doc."

He shrugged. "It's a compromise."

I shook my head. "No, it's not. I'm not compromising anything. You're basically letting me have it my way."

He shook his head. "No. If you had things your way, you wouldn't have a psychiatrist in the first place."

I was about to agree but then I shook my head. Just like he said, he knew a bit too much now to forget about him. And I did feel a bit better. Just a little. I might as well use him as long as I have him. "Well, you're not my shrink anymore. You're my friend. I could always use a… friend." He smiled. His smile was truly beautiful. "I'm sorry. For your having to… see me like that. For you… having to change _your_ way of doing things for me."

Something flashed in his eyes, something I did not understand. Then he shook his head, smiling kindly. "I'm perfectly okay with that, Bella. I offered. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have."

I nodded and there was an awkward silence between us that caused me to look away from him yet once again. We sat there in silence and I noticed my hands trembling slightly in my lap.

"I like your hair," I heard him say out of nowhere, his voice soft and I just probably imagined it, but it sounded like there was a slight change of intonation.

I lifted my head up and smiled tentatively. I had completely forgotten about it. "Thank you. I like it, too."

He mirrored my facial expression, smiling. "It suits you. Truly."

I felt the oddest feeling of warmth spread in my chest, going up my neck, right into my cheeks with the intensity of it I didn't expect. I used to have men tell me I was sexy as hell all the time plus other dirty compliments, but none of them made me feel in a slightest bit as flattered as Edward's humble comment about my new haircut. In the heat of the moment, I wondered what spicier, more intimate compliments and whispers would feel like coming from him, in that deep, velvet voice of his, what would _those_ made me feel like, what kind of moan s would his lips near my ear make me elicit, what-

 _Married, Bella. M-A-R-R-I-E-D._

Right. That. I had to remember that. Strange… it was so easy to forget sometimes.

I sighed, my stomach growling. "You want to stay for dinner?" I asked, nervous all of a sudden. It was the peace between us now, wasn't it? I could make a celebratory dinner. "I can cook something quick. Well, but not that quick I guess, 'cause my hand is impaired for the time being." I babbled. "Or I can order pizza. Ahmm… Do you like pineapple on your pizza, because I do, and everyone I know just hates it. But I mean I don't have anything against your not liking pineapple. It still means we're friends if you don't like pineapple on your pizza. We can have one half with pineapple and the other without."

"Bella-"

"Oh no. You like only cheese on your pizza, don't you? I mean, that's kind of boring, but you know, whatever you like-"

"Bella!" he cut me off, chuckling. "Thanks for your offer but I have to go," he said, checking his watch again, frowning suddenly. "I'm already late."

Ouch. Well. Even friends had to go home, I guess. "Sure, no problem."

He looked at me and smirked. "I thought you were a pasta girl."

Oh, shit. "I might have… lied."

He shook his head but didn't seem angry. He stood up and started towards the door. I followed him. "For future reference, I do like pineapple on my pizza."

"Aren't you supposed to keep quiet about your personal life, Dr. Cullen?" I teased cautiously, anticipating his reaction.

Edward laughed out loud, and I was glad to see it. "My friends should know what I like to have on my pizza."

I nodded. "True."

I opened the door for him and before he slipped out of the apartment, he turned to me and there was an indecision in his eyes as he watched my face. Suddenly, his hand shot up in the air, moving tentatively towards my face. I almost closed my eyes, expecting his touch, but he quickly dropped his hand down. I saw he wanted to say something, but didn't. His eyes were full of some kind of emotion and whatever it was I liked it, because even if I didn't understand it, there was at least _some_ emotion. I hoped he would keep his Dr. Psycho emotionless freak on a leash from now on. I kind of liked the idea of us being friends. I kind of liked the idea of having a friend who knew about me. It made him special. We had a connection now. But… could it really work in a long run?

"Thank you, Bella. I… I really appreciate your openness to this… arrangement."

I nodded, not liking the arrangement word. "Artificial friends."

He smiled timidly. "I know it might seem like that at first, but… I hope things will get better between us."

"I hope so, too."

And there we were again, staring at each other in a sudden awkwardness that was swallowing us. "Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye, Edward." He smiled lightly and turned to leave. I watched his retreating back and before I could stop myself I stepped out of the apartment.

"Edward?"

"Yes?" He stopped on the landing, looking over his shoulder at me.

I took a deep breath. "I know what my comfort food is."

"I thought you didn't have a comfort food," he remarked cheekily.

"I didn't have. Up until this morning."

He gave me a wide smile, and I felt my stomach do a somersault. He was beautiful. And I didn't know why it was or what I had done, but suddenly, all the awkwardness was gone. It was just him and me and his green eyes looking deeply into my brown ones. A magically surreal moment, just like the one when I was curled up in his lap holding onto him tightly. "Anytime."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

And for some reason, I knew it was true. I watched his back as he stepped down the stairs and then I returned to my apartment, closing the doors behind me.

Friends. Now that I wasn't under Edward's influence, the idea seemed a little ridiculous. I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to open up again to Edward like I had yesterday. Could I really get better? Could I really not feel as much pain as I was used to feeling? Maybe his efforts were in vain. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the door, thinking of what good could come out of this _arrangement_. Little did I know it was the beginning of the most heartbreaking, the most painful, yet the most beautiful and life-altering experience of my existence.

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A/N **Ohhhh ;)**


	20. This I Hadn't Done in Years

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. Storyline's mine :)**

 **THANK YOU for your amazing reviews. I love hearing from you.**

 **I have mixed feelings about this chapter. So just... let me know how you feel about this one.**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, again, many many thanks!**

 **Enjoy. R.**

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20\. Sia – Breathe Me

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CHAPTER 19

 **This I Hadn't Done in Years**

" _Be my friend, hold me  
Wrap me up, unfold me  
I am small, I'm needy  
Warm me up and breathe me."_

" _Ouch, I have lost myself again  
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found  
Yeah, I think that I might break  
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe."_

 _Tuesday, April 2, 2013_ _(3 days later)_

„Hi, Edward. It's me. Uhm. I mean, it's Bella," I said nervously, cursing myself internally. I didn't know why, but I felt awkward. "I just thought, you know, we talked about being somewhere else and not in your office for our sessions. We didn't specify where today's session would be, so I thought maybe we could meet in the park in downtown Seattle? You know… the one just a block away from my place? We can take a walk. It's sunny, so… I don't know. Just give me a call." I hung up and cursed myself again. It was my lunch break and not wanting to sabotage his effort, I had reached out and tried to arrange our session today. I called in the morning, but he hadn't picked up. I tried to call now, but he wasn't available again. I just left him a voicemail and hoped I wasn't too… pushy or something. I didn't want to bother him; I knew he had been quite busy with opening his practice. We hadn't spoken to each other since Saturday and I still felt weird. Was the weirdness ever going to go away?

I returned to the canteen to Alice and Rose who were already sitting at our table.

"Where were you, Bella?" Alice asked, chewing on her salad.

"I just called Edward. We are supposed to have a session today, but we didn't talk about a place to meet." I had told the girls about the arrangement we had come to. Alice was not very happy about it, but Rose lit up like a ray of sunshine peeking out from behind a grey cloud; she loved his idea, saying she knew Edward would come up with a way to help me. "But he isn't picking up. I left him a message."

"Oh, I don't think you'll have a session today, Bella," Alice said, not elaborating.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Tanya and his daughter are in town. They arrived on Saturday," she explained, and I stared at her like if she had just told me the earth was flat.

"Saturday?" I echoed.

"Yep," nodded Alice, taking a fork to her mouth. After she swallowed, she continued. "It was unexpected. Jasper told me Edward was quite angry Tanya hadn't told him in advance; he's way too busy this week to have any distractions. Apparently, they had a fight about it."

"I can't imagine them having a fight," said Rosalie, an incredulous look on her face. "They're like… perfect together."

My eyes widened. "Have you seen them together?"

She shook her head. "No. But they sound like a perfect family. Emmett says they are perfect for each other, he likes Tanya a lot." Of course, Emmett likes _her_. "They've been together for eight years! Isn't that amazing? Half of the marriages nowadays end in divorce after no more than two or three years. And Emmett told me they dated for quite some time even before they were married."

"Yeah, but I really want to meet Tanya," Alice said, pushing her salad away.

"I know!" Rosalie agreed. "I wanted them to come over on Sunday for dinner, but Emmett said they were with Edward's parents. Maybe we'll finally meet her on Saturday," Rosalie said, looking hopeful. "I'd love to see their daughter, too. Edward talks about her with such admiration."

Alice nodded. "Yeah, I know. He adores her. Jasper says he's obsessed with her. I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, now that they're here. He barely sees them because of his work."

I swallowed hard. It made sense. His family came first, I was just his patient after all; a friend, but a patient first.

"But he has other patients in his practice now," I said. "How am I different? Doesn't he have to… be with me as well?"

Alice looked at me, raising her brow. "Since when are you so keen to have your therapy sessions, Bella?"

I was _so not_ keen on having sessions with him. "I'm not… I was just curious about how the new _my-patient-is-my-friend system_ is going to work."

"Don't listen to Alice, Bella. I think it's great you're starting to enjoy your therapy," Rose said.

"I am not…" I sighed. "Look, I just want to know if we're on or not, okay?" I said and in that exact moment, my phone started ringing. I reached for it almost immediately and upon seeing Edward's name, I stood up, taking the phone with me to an empty bathroom. "Yes?"

"Hi, Bella."

"Did you get my message?"

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry I didn't pick up, I was…" he trailed off distractedly. "I was busy."

It sounded weird, but I didn't want to read more into it than there really was. "Good. Is the park okay with you? If you want to go somewhere else, I don't mind. I didn't really know where to-"

"Bella, I'm afraid I have to cancel our session today. I'm sorry I didn't let you know yesterday, but I thought I would be able to squeeze you in."

"Oh," I said. It was one thing hearing it from Alice and another hearing Edward actually confirm it. "Mhm. That's okay."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tight as if he was in a hurry.

"Yeah, I mean… I'm fine."

He was silent for a little while and then I heard him sigh silently. "What's wrong?"

"Why would there be something wrong?" I asked, my voice full of faked nonchalance.

"I thought we were friends. You can tell me."

"I'm fine, Edward. Really. See you on Friday? Or do you need some time off? Alice told me your family's in Seattle, so-"

"No, I'll see you on Friday. Definitely. We can meet at the park, at the usual time after school…?"

I felt relief rise within me. Relief that I didn't understand and didn't know if I should feel. I hated the man, for god's sakes.

"Sure."

"Good. Again, Bella, I apologize," he said, and his voice now sounded sincerer.

"It's okay."

"See you on Friday."

"See you on Friday," I echoed and sighed. What was wrong with me?

I couldn't deny the fact that Edward's suggestion at being friendlier with each other impressed me. I appreciated it and the more I thought about it over the last few days, the more I liked the idea. I knew it would be hard and more difficult for him to treat me in this way, but he was making things easy for me. That proved to me that he wasn't as big of a dick as I had suspected after all. I mean, he definitely could be rude and sarcastic if he wanted, push my buttons just like I did his, but the fact that he was the one who had made the effort meant a lot. He had backed off from the standard relationship between a patient and their doctor. It was actually much more than just an arrangement for him. It was more than a compromise. He was the one making all the sacrifices, I wasn't the one compromising. And on principle alone, I wasn't very comfortable with it. It felt now like I owed him something, like we weren't equal.

Friendship… Could we make it work?

The things he had told me on Saturday were lingering in my mind almost all the time. I could still clearly see his frustration, the way he had run his hand through his hair as he was talking about me and just how much I infuriated him at times, how he felt around me and what he actually thought about me. It explained most of his confusing reactions I hadn't cracked, so I felt a little better about him now – more familiar. Also, he saw me being broken down; he saw my cracked heart. He wasn't the same Edward for me anymore as much as I wanted to pretend he was. We could call ourselves friends, but in reality, it was just another kind of arrangement between us. Technically, I was still his patient, and I knew that I might not be able to talk about any of what had happened to me for weeks to come. On the other hand, however, I couldn't entirely get rid of the feeling that there was still something between us, some kind of bridge we had yet to cross when it came to our relationship. I didn't understand it at all.

The school day ended fairly quickly, and I walked home, bathing in the sunshine that occasionally appeared in the grey sky. It was a quite nice day. In Washington, April wasn't a month that prided itself on very many sunny days. Yet, even despite the sunshine, I could feel a sense of defeat and lethargy coming my way, making me feel gloomy and just overall very sad. I had felt a lightness on Saturday, but today I felt like shit for no apparent reason. It was just one of those days again. Tell me now… why should I aim for feeling better when there would definitely come a day like this when all the happiness would just disappear into thin air again? What was the point in trying?

Once I was home, I put some music on and sat on the couch still in my coat entering a melancholic bubble, just staring blankly around me. I did that a lot when I was way too exhausted by pain to notice it anymore. I just felt the void in my chest, the absence of purpose and fulfillment. At times like this I not only felt the emptiness inside me, around me, in every part of my life, but I also realized it. I hated moments like these, but I could hardly avoid them. They were a part of me and while it was nice to talk to Edward and it helped temporarily, now I just felt awful. Again – what was the point?

I sat there, for god knows how long, my mind an empty page. When the room darkened, I stood up deciding I needed to wash my face or do something to wake myself up. I turned the music off. Walking into my bedroom, I tripped over something, falling towards the ground on my knees, protecting my left hand from crashing to the ground. I hissed in pain and while I was on the floor, I looked over my shoulder to identify the object I had stumbled on. It was the box of my paintings. I hadn't put it in the closet and it had lain in the corner since Saturday. I couldn't care less about it. I kicked the box and it slid across the room until it stopped at the leg of my bed. I stood up rubbing my knees and then went into the bathroom deciding I needed a proper bath. I took my clothes off including the coat I was still wearing and let the water run. I added some bubbles and then sank slowly into the bathtub, letting my muscles stretch and relax a bit. I wasn't big on taking baths, but from time to time they were nice. I lay there until the water was ice cold and then wrapped myself in my fluffy robe. I went straight to bed because I wanted this day to be over already. Without changing into my PJs, I just let myself fall down into bed, curling up under the covers. To fall asleep wasn't as difficult tonight as I had expected, a few tears falling on the pillow as I drifted off into a restless sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night feeling awfully thirsty. My stomach was growling as well, but I had already learned to ignore it. I pondered for a few minutes if I should stand up and go into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water or if I should just stay in bed. Thinking about not eating or drinking anything in almost twenty-four hours – since yesterday's breakfast – I eventually got up and half-asleep I started towards the kitchen only to find myself falling down again, now directly on my face as my right hand was too late to register what was going on. I cursed and stood up; noticing it was that freaking fucking box of paintings I had tripped over again.

"Fucking shit," I muttered, kicking the box angrily. If you had told me ten years ago I would treat my precious paintings like that, I would've never believed you. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water that I swallowed in three gulps. I filled it again, taking it with me to my bedroom. I avoided the damn box, put the glass on my bedtable and fell into bed again. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but all I did was toss around, my mind was way too alert to turn itself off. I turned to the other side and noticed the box now lying in the middle of the room, taunting me. I don't know exactly why, but I stood up and walked over to it. I eyed it, in the fairly dark room seeing only its silhouette. I bent over and lifted the box up, taking it with me to bed. I switched the light on, mindlessly opened it and with the emptiness I had felt before I took the paintings and drawings out one by one. I remembered them a bit too well for my liking. I remembered exactly what had inspired each of them; I even remembered the way I had painted them, what brushes and colors I had used. And while I was holding them, looking at each one, my mind automatically switched gears and I started seeing little mistakes. I started wondering what could've been different, what I shouldn't have done and what I could've added to different pictures. That color of one was too dull and another one was too bright. This square was a bit too close to the viewer's eye and I should've put it farther away in the distance. There was one – I'd called it _Geese on the Cloud_ – that was only a canvas with horizontal waves, each wave a different color. On the bottom, there was an earthy brown wave and above it, a wave painted in a soft shade of dark blue that faded perfectly into the brown one below it. The third wave that faded into the blue one was dark forest green. The shapes of the waves were all different, and I remembered the way I had been layering them one after another, making the colors fade into each other. Brown, blue and green repeated in the waves that followed after the first three, and the whole painting was rather gloomy in terms of atmosphere. The waves were speckled with random white brush strokes that looked like tiger stripes. I fairly remembered I had been thinking of the forests surrounding First Beach in La Push when I had painted it. I'd liked the painting back then. Now? Not so much. It wasn't one of my craziest paintings despite its crazy name. I guess I liked the name the most; now that I think about it, it was solely for the fact that there were hardly any geese in the area around La Push.

The strangest painting I found in the box was also the darkest one. It was a painting of a forest of dead trees that had no leaves. The sky was almost white which faded into a dark – almost black – brown that represented the ground. In the middle of the forest, at the front of the painting was a small white silhouette of a girl in profile, looking up at the sky. My aim had been to portray the girl's silhouette with her emotions but without having to show her face. I didn't know if I had succeeded or not because I had never had feedback from anyone about it, but I liked to believe that yes, I had managed to do it. That wasn't the strange part about the picture, though. It was the tree opposite the girl. The tree had a big thick trunk that had an opening in its middle – an entry. It was pitch black, but if you focused well enough, you could see a silhouette of a skull with yellow eyes looking at the girl. It was called _The Forest of Mine._

I sighed silently, a sole tear streaming down my cheek. How long had it been since I had held a pencil in my hand and drew something? Anything? I couldn't even remember. I pushed the box away and looked around the dark room for a few seconds, diving into the memory of what it had actually felt like to paint, to draw, to sketch, to see through the eyes of an artist the world around me. I had learned to ignore that part of myself so well that I was afraid I would never be able to see the world like that again. But I was mistaken. The moment I closed my eyes and apprehensively allowed myself to draw with my mind's eye, a feeling of freedom, creative strength and authenticity arose in me, making me feel courageous. Automatically, I saw Edward's face, beaming with a smile, his green eyes sparkling with something I rarely saw and didn't understand. I didn't know what it meant, but it was that thing in his eyes that made him really beautiful. I saw his face, its lines and sharp angles, the way his thick eyebrows towered over his deeply set eyes, his fairly plump pinkish lips of no particular clear-cut shape. I felt my fingers twitching with the need to capture what I saw and the fear of it disappearing before I could do so. Without further ado, my eyes snapped opened and without thinking I opened my bedtable drawer, grabbing a notebook and a simple blue pen I kept there. As if in a haze, I started to sketch the approximate contours, my right hand perfectly swift. However, it was that overwhelming calmness and excitement rushing through me that stopped my hand in the middle of a stroke.

Christ, what was I doing?

I didn't sketch long enough for it to become a full picture. Quite the contrary, it was just a basic outline of a portrait, but it already looked an awfully lot like Edward. Suddenly fearful, I put the notebook and pen hurriedly back into the drawer and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

Drawing meant rejection. Rejection meant failure. Failure meant disappointment. Disappointment meant inadequacy. Inadequacy meant not being good enough. Not being good enough meant pain. Pain meant… suffering.

Anxious and a little agitated I switched the light off, and kicked the box away from me again, making it fall back onto the floor. I lay down and turned to the other side, facing the window. Silent cries lulled me to sleep where I saw his face again.

 _Friday, April 5, 2013_ _(3 days later)_

It was a fairly windy evening, and twilight was setting behind my back. The days were getting longer with the upcoming summer months, but it had never made me feel better about the fact that I was living in Seattle. There were still clouds and rain and just an overall gloomy atmosphere in the air, no matter what the season. Edward and I had met here today and while a part of me had expected him to cancel at the last minute because of his family, I was glad to find him standing by the old scraggy tree in the middle of the park, turned with his back to me, in a long black coat, its collar put up, possibly to keep the sharp wind from touching the skin of his neck. My heart jumped at the sight of him standing there and the closer I got to him, the more nervous I became. I slowed down a little, taking a deep breath when he turned around abruptly and spotted me moving towards him, smiling tentatively.

"Hi," he said his hands in his pockets. His coat wasn't buttoned up and underneath his coat he was wearing a charcoal turtleneck. The dark colors he wore contrasted with his pale skin, making his green eyes pop. Seattle suited him. I wish I could say the same. All that grey made my white skin look translucent and unhealthy.

"Hi," I said, avoiding his eyes. I wrapped my arms around my torso, being careful with the left one, and waited for him to say something.

"You're cold," he said in observation.

"No, I'm okay." I was freezing, but why would I say that? "It's not that cold."

"It's pretty chilly. Shall we go for a coffee instead of a walk?"

"Are you cold?"

He shook his head, and I eyed the unruly mess on his head that "No, you are. Let's go and grab a coffee, Bella. You're shivering."

I rolled my eyes, and I almost made a sharp comment but bit my tongue. Instead, I smiled slightly. "Don't exaggerate."

He looked away from me and motioned with his hand to the left. "I never do. Shall we?"

I nodded because I knew he wouldn't back off, and slowly we started to walk in silence out of the park. I felt my hands shaking from the nipping cold. Well, one hand, but when I touched the left one with my right one, it felt ice cold. I could feel Edward watching me from the corner of his eye, frowning, but I didn't look up at him. Instead, I tried not to pay much attention to his proximity and ignore the urge to look at him.

Edward asked what café I wanted to go to, as there were a couple on the street, but I just shrugged, not really caring. So, he chose a little bookshop/café on the corner. I had never noticed it before and smiled upon entering because it looked amazing. The atmosphere was cozy but not too much; you could still have privacy. The furniture looked handmade, and every piece was different, yet it fit together. Edward led me to the back of the café to a dark green square table with two chairs. He asked if it was alright and I simply nodded because I didn't care where we sat. There were however more comfortably looking loveseats around us, but I didn't want to disagree with him. He helped me out of the coat and I saw how he again tried not to touch me. Upon my turning to face him I noticed him watching my body.

"What's wrong?" I asked, a little offended by the audacity of his act.

He looked back to my face. "You're not eating enough."

I rolled my eyes. "You're my shrink, Edward. Not my dad. I can feed myself."

He didn't reply, but he was frowning. Ignoring him I sat down behind the table, and he soon followed suit. In a fraction of a second, a waiter was at our table, asking us what we would like to order. I couldn't overlook the way he was looking at Edward.

"Bella?" Edward asked, wanting me to order first, apparently unaware of the waiter's attraction for him.

I sighed, thinking quickly. "Can I have a green tea?"

"Sure thing. What can I get for you?" he asked Edward, stepping a bit closer to his side of the table.

"Just a coffee, please," Edward said. "And a glass of water."

"Is that everything for you?"

I nodded, but Edward stopped the waiter when he turned to go. The waiter's face lit up. "Can you, please, bring us cheese toasts?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you," Edward replied. When the waiter finally left our table, Edward turned to me, his piercing eyes on me. Was he really so oblivious to the waiter? Or maybe he just chose to ignore it. I think he was waiting for me to say something, but I only stared at him, taken aback by the intensity of his glare. "So?"

"So what?"

"How have you been?" he asked, his voice casual.

"Good." He raised his eyebrow in question. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing. "

"How have you been? "

"Good. "

I rolled my eyes. "That's it? Just good? "He nodded, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Oh, okay, I get it."

"What? "

I sighed. "I've been miserable. Satisfied? "

His shoulders tensed up. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me, you're the doctor. "

I saw he was getting frustrated by me again. But I could hardly stop myself from being like this. I was irritable, angry for no reason whatsoever. Even though we weren't in his office, it still felt arranged, forced and I felt like I was in the spotlight.

 _Because it is, Bella - an arrangement, remember?_

I sighed again and before he could say anything, the waiter came back with our order, placing the tea, coffee, water and a plate full of cheese toasts on the table. Gosh, they smelled amazing. And I was starving, not eating much today.

The waiter was more courageous this time, touching Edward's shoulder gently. "Can I bring you anything else?" he asked him, ignoring me blatantly.

"No, thanks," Edward answered, totally oblivious to the tall blonde guy who was definitely giving him the eye. The boy left rather unsatisfied, and I imminently burst into laughter when I saw Edward's naïve expression. "What now?"

"That's just ridiculous," I said, still laughing.

"What's ridiculous?"

"Oh, Edward. That boy… Don't you see? He was hitting on you."

His eyes widened. "No, he wasn't."

"He totally was. It was so obvious."

"I would know if someone was hitting on me," he said confidently. "Especially men."

I raised my eyebrow. "Is that so? Is there something _you'd_ like to talk about, Edward?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "No. It's just that it would be difficult not to notice _that_."

"Whatever. I'll prove you wrong," I said and waved my hand in the air, immediately getting the waiter's attention.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving you wrong."

In three seconds the waiter was at our table, making eyes at my shrink. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, and the innuendo was hard to miss.

Edward's eyes widened with realization and I almost bit off my tongue as I tried so hard not to laugh. He stammered like he wanted to say something but was unsuccessful. "Can I have a glass of water, too, please?" I asked instead of him because there was no way he would be able to say anything. The waiter reluctantly turned to me and nodded, leaving our table giving Edward one last look.

"So?" I asked, giggling.

He visibly relaxed once the waiter was gone. "Look, this time it was an exception. I normally notice these things."

Why didn't I believe him? "Right."

"My attention was occupied elsewhere."

"And might I ask where?"

"It was with you," he said matter-of-factly, his eyes on mine. My smile froze for a second. "Which brings me to…" he trailed off and pushed a plate with cheese toasts to me. "Eat."

I shook my head. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"I see. You don't do things that people tell you to do."

I nodded. "Exactly."

"You look hungry, though." I was. I was terribly hungry.

"I'm fine."

He shrugged. "Okay," he said simply, rolled up his sleeves showing his forearms and grabbed the first toast. I watched him eat it; he was humming in appreciation telling me how good it was and how the cheese was melted perfectly with every bite. Then he put the sandwich down and licked his lips, bringing his cheesy fingers to his mouth as well. Didn't he know what was he doing to me? Now, I was not only hungry but also horny and it was not a good combination. The picture I had in front of me was impeccable in terms of contrasts. Edward always seemed to be so neat and _clean_ in his black slacks and button-ups, and even now in his turtleneck you could see how well put-together this man was. But seeing this perfect man getting his fingers dirty was a sight for the gods. The light was dim, too, and it made his pale skin shine brightly which was a blissful contrast on its own.

Why the hell was I reacting to him like that?! _No, no, no, no, no. No, Bella. NO._

He smirked at me and that was the last straw. I snatched the plate from him. "Listen. I'll eat, but you-"

"But?" he asked, obviously amused as he put his wrists on the table. "Are you giving me conditions?"

"I'll eat, but you have to tell me how you have been, Edward," I said. "The truth."

He sighed, but I saw him relax when I grabbed a toast for myself. He reached for a napkin on the table and cleaned his fingers and mouth. "Deal."

I smiled. "Good." Then we kept staring at each other and waited for the other one to begin but no one conceded. "You first."

"I was… busy."

"That's it?" Before he could answer, the waiter brought me the glass of water, his eyes not leaving Edward. I only chuckled silently.

Edward, not paying him much attention, sighed loudly. "I was busy and agitated for most of the week. My family has come to visit from Chicago and my wife chose the most inconvenient time. Let's just say that I was not pleasantly surprised," he said, and I could detect the disapproval in his voice. I took a bite from the toast. "Don't get me wrong, I am happy to see them both. It's been a while and I miss them a lot. It's just… I've wanted them to come for so long, so we could spend some time together and with my parents, but I just opened my practice and I've barely left my office this week. This is not how I wanted it to be." It sounded like he was angrier with himself than with his wife.

Suddenly I felt guilty, swallowing quickly. "You don't have to spend your time with me, Edward. Go home."

He shook his head vehemently. "No, you're my patient and we have an arrangement. My wife surprised me with their arrival and she knew I was going to have a crazy week. She can't expect me to accommodate my schedule because of her spontaneous decision."

"But I-"

"Don't feel guilty, Bella. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be."

I nodded, my appetite suddenly gone. "If you're sure."

"Yeah. I'm sure," he said, smiling softly. "Now, eat."

And I obliged. I took another bite, and he watched me for a while, an unfathomable look on his face. "So, why is your wife in Chicago?"

He frowned. Was that a wrong question? "A few months ago, my wife received an offer to be the head of the new pediatric research center here in Seattle. She is a pediatrician, but she focuses on the scientific side of medicine. She has always been very ambitious, and I have supported her as well as I could, but… I didn't want to leave Chicago. It was my home for ten years. I had my practice established there; I had my patients, friends… Later, we came to a compromise. I knew how important it was to her, I didn't want to be the one standing in her way," he said, and I admired him for the sacrifice he'd made. "The research center opens this year in November. Because of my concerns, my dad suggested I move to Seattle earlier and open my practice now so that when the girls come, I will be established and it would make the transition easier for both of them, especially Katie."

"So… now you're here and your wife and daughter are in Chicago?"

"Yes. It was one of my conditions. Katie just started first grade, and I didn't want her to change schools so fast. She's very shy. My wife stayed with her. Besides, she still has work to do there."

I nodded. It made sense. "When are they coming to Seattle?"

"At the end of June, when the school year finishes."

I nodded again, finishing my toast. I took a gulp of my tea. Edward looked a bit upset, and I figured it was because we were talking about his family. So even though I had a million other questions, I zipped it because I didn't want to push him.

"So, why is it that you felt bad this week?" he asked suddenly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It is like that sometimes," I said. "I am alone most of the time, so that sucks. Also, I have nothing to do at home. Nothing that keeps my mind away from the shitty thoughts I tend to have."

He nodded. "What about Rose and Alice?"

"They have their own lives. We used to spend a lot of time together during the weekends and on Friday nights, but now that Alice is with your brother and with Rosalie's wedding coming up, we don't have as much time as we used to."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you seeing someone?"

I frowned. "No. No, I'm not seeing anyone. You already know that."

He lifted a corner of his lips. "You might have lied...Pasta girl."

I smiled. "I didn't lie about that. Since James, I haven't been with anyone."

He nodded. "Maybe you should start dating."

I almost choked on my toast. "What?"

"Maybe having someone in your life will help you keep your mind occupied. I am not talking about love and marriage, but about simply getting to know someone new. Maybe later you will realize that that 'someone' is the person you want to enter into a relationship with. You would be supported and being in a healthy relationship might be exactly what you need."

I shook my head vehemently. "Don't you see, doc? Healthy is the operative word in that sentence. How can I have a healthy relationship if I am in such a crappy place now? Who would want me? That's out of question."

He frowned in disagreement. "You can't think like that."

"It's true. I need to… Look, I know I am not going to have a normal relationship. Maybe… ever. First, the man who would fall in love with me would have to be an idiot and I can't love someone who's stupid. Second, I don't think I am even capable of love. I never truly loved Jacob and James was a…" I trailed off, tears in my eyes. "He was an idiot and as you can see, even an idiot like him didn't fall in love with me."

Edward didn't respond. His eyes were studying me again, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. "First of all, he was an unavailable man, Bella."

I shrugged, looking down ashamed. "I know."

"You can't attach yourself to someone like him. He was married and had children. A situation like this is just a ticking bomb. Before you know it, you get hurt," he said, his voice gentle. He wasn't saying it in a condescending way, merely as a concerned friend.

"It was meant to be…" I trailed off, ashamed. Why were we talking about this? He didn't respond but waited for me to continue. "It was meant to just be about sex. I didn't want to fall in love with him. Or whatever it was that I did."

"Bella," he started. "As you said, it was a dependency. You didn't love him. He was just… a means for you to cope with whatever you felt back then. He might have given you an illusion of love and always so neglected, he made you feel better."

I nodded because it sounded just right. I looked up at him. "You're making me cry again."

He smiled softly and handed me a clean napkin. "I apologize. But it is okay to let it out."

I wiped three tears that were lucky to escape. "I know now I was stupid. He used me. I know that. It's just… I am who I am now, Edward. I made _this_ of myself," I said and to emphasize my point, I motioned to my body. "There is no going back. Who would want me? I am damaged."

"We all are, Bella."

"Maybe," I said. "But I am beyond repair. I have nothing to offer. Nothing that is left of me is… worthy of attention, let alone love."

Edward's frown deepened as he listened to me. "What about painting? Isn't that a part of you?"

I smiled sadly. "Not anymore. That Bella died a long time ago."

"You are giving up on yourself so easily."

"And what choice do I have? To give up – to not try – is a safe haven for me. It keeps me from even more pain, it keeps me from failing."

"And it keeps you from happiness, too," he said immediately, his eyes burning a hole in my face. "Life is about taking risks."

I shook my head. "I can't take any more pain, Edward. If I started painting… it just reminds me of who I used to be and who I'm not anymore."

"Bella," he sighed. "Why do you want to be someone who you used to be? Isn't that a step back? You told me about the Bella, a scared girl who was way too afraid to follow her heart. Why don't you discover who you are now and be finally yourself? You have no one to stop you," he said. "No one."

His words were passionate and encouraging and for a while there I believed them. But only for a while. "They can reject me."

"Who?"

"Everyone."

He squeezed his eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"I know," I said simply. "I know that. They rejected me before."

"Do you know who you are?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore."

"I think you know very well," Edward concluded. "It's just the fear that's stopping you."

I swallowed hard. Why was he grilling me so much? "Look, Edward. It's too late for me. It's too late for my dreams."

He sighed. "You're stubborn."

I smiled. "Yeah, I've been told that before."

"What I'm just trying to say is…" he trailed off, and I saw how focused he was on trying to put his thoughts into words. "That I know there is more strength in you than you believe. That it is not going to be easy, but is definitely worth it. If you just give yourself a chance… It is going to be painful, but that's what family and friends are for – to be there for you when it hurts. You have people around you, people who have your back. Don't push them away. You have Alice, Rosalie… you have me. I'll be here for you. Anytime. You just have to trust us and - most importantly -yourself." His eyes were intense, and I didn't doubt for a second that what he was saying was true.

"How do you know I won't scare you away?"

He smiled gently. "If you do, then you have to promise me you won't stop trying. If you scare me away, then I wasn't a true friend. You have to kick people like that out of your life."

I eyed him quizzically. "Even if it was Alice or Rose?"

"Of course. You don't deserve friends like that. Nobody does."

"What if I stay completely alone then?"

"You won't stay alone for long," he said firmly. "Because if you live your truth, you will attract people who belong in your life and who will love you for who you truly are." His eyes were as honest and clear as a bright day. He truly believed every word he was saying and his honesty, his generosity and openness touched me somewhere deep. This man was surreal. This man wasn't from this world. "You have to stop hiding, Bella."

"So, you can finally figure me out?" I asked cheekily.

He chuckled. "Yeah, so I can figure you out." He was quiet for a while but then his voice became serious again. "But no. Seriously, you have every right to kick my ass anytime I make you feel like you can't be yourself around me. Tell me if I offend you; tell me if I make you feel uncomfortable. Stand up for yourself when you're with me. I won't leave. I just want to get to know you."

"Are you planning on doing any of those things?"

He shook his head. "No. I simply know what it means to be afraid of being yourself."

I slowly nodded, but as usual, he didn't elaborate when he mentioned his own life, and how he _knew_ about how I felt. There was something with him, something behind that perfect man. I couldn't possibly even imagine him experiencing anything bad, but sometimes he said something like that and it just made me think what was it that those green eyes had seen before?

"Okay, enough of the heavy," Edward said after a while, sipping his coffee.

"Enough of the heavy? Wow, I am surprised, Dr. Cullen."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah. Well. I have a life, too, as unbelievable as it might sound to you."

I smiled, and we kept looking at each other for a few minutes, caught up in the moment. The minute I realized that, I looked away, searching for a topic we could discuss. "You know, I wouldn't expect you to be a Sponge Bob fan," I said finally, remembering how I had found him in my living room watching Sponge Bob.

"My daughter loves him," he said, and his eyes got that wistful look again. I watched his face carefully. "I am more of a He-Man kind of guy. "

"Oh my god! _He-man and Masters of the Universe!_ "

His eyes widened. "You remember that?"

"Of course, I remember," I said. "I mean, I was little when it came out, but there were reruns of the show. How could I not remember it? How could I not remember She-Ra?"

He whistled loudly. "Oh, I forgot about her. That was madness just how much I used to watch that show. It was my favorite cartoon."

"My favorite cartoon is Sponge Bob. I think I was fifteen when it came out."

"A bit old for cartoons, huh?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "But I was never… normal. Look, I'm twenty-eight and I still watch cartoons."

"True."

"Which tells me that your daughter has impeccably good taste."

He smiled. "Well… she _is_ my daughter."

I laughed. "You really are big-headed, aren't you?"

"Always when it comes to her. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me," he said proudly, and I wanted to cry. His voice, his face, his overall demeanor changed completely at the mention of his daughter and unwanted jealousy rushed through me. Partly because my father had never spoken about me like that and partly because there was no one in the world – particularly not me – who could make his face shine as brightly as his daughter.

"How old is she again?"

"She just turned eight on Tuesday," he said. "That's why I had to cancel our meeting. We celebrated. I apologize again for not letting you know sooner."

"Edward, it makes complete sense," I said. "You should be with your family while they are in town."

He frowned. "Enough of that, Bella. I told you I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

Out of nowhere, the waiter appeared at our table, standing too close to Edward. "Would you like to order something?"

Edward immediately tensed, and I felt almost sorry for him. Almost. "No, we're good. Thanks," I said. The waiter nodded, and I just laughed again because the look on Edward's face was priceless.

"We're never coming here again," he said half-jokingly, and I liked how matter-of-factly he said that, as if he was planning on having coffee with me again soon. I liked how he visibly relaxed and how easy the conversation flew between us. There was an apparent tension in the beginning, but it was the waiter and his flirty eyes who had broken the ice.

Edward checked the watch on his wrist and I suddenly felt sad when I realized we had spent almost two hours here and he must have wanted to go home. It was already pretty dark outside.

"I should go," I said first, not wanting him to be the one to finish our… meeting.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, and we stood up. He helped me into my coat and it surprised me, just like every time he did something gentlemanlike. He insisted on paying the check and while I protested, my efforts were in vain. He paid the waiter who winked at him suggestively and when Edward turned to me returning from the counter, he rolled his eyes. I smiled at him, seeing that same spark in his eyes that had been present for almost the entirety of our conversation, and for some reason, that sight alone made me feel very relieved, content even.

We left the café, and he handed me the receipt. "Turn it over," he said, smirking.

I did so and when I saw a phone number on the other side, I cracked up, shaking my head. "Well, you are a catch, Dr. Cullen. Can't blame the man for trying."

"Am I?" he asked, grinning.

"I-I-" I stammered, realizing what I's said. "I guess. Not entirely my type, but… you know. I understand the appeal." He was _totally my type. To the dot._ I mean, I hadn't even realized I had a type before him.

He just laughed and didn't respond. He led me to his car and when he asked if I wanted a ride home I said I didn't. Yes, I wanted a ride home, but I was already way too over the line here and if I didn't watch myself, I would say something much more inappropriate.

"Thanks for feeding me, doc," I said to him when he unlocked his silver Volvo.

"You're welcome. Thanks for the chat."

"You're welcome."

"I hope it made you feel a bit better," he said, a hopeful look on his face.

"Yeah," I said. "I liked it better than being in your office. No offense."

"None taken. To take you out of the office is the whole purpose of this isn't it?"

"I guess."

He smiled. "Goodbye, Bella."

"Goodbye, Dr. Cullen."

He nodded and then got into the car. He drove away and I sighed deeply, feeling that this arrangement - this friendship - wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

A/N **So, just to let you know, I'm taking a week or two off from writing since I have exams coming and I haven't studied one bit. I will definitely be back, with more chapters I hope. I need to have a break and explore the story in my head before I rush into something that doesn't make any sense. Because this, guys, is going to be the _getting-real-close_ part of the story and it needs to be done properly. It has been sitting in my head since November and I better do the movie in my head justice.**

 **Bear with me. Love ya all who have nice and kind words to say.**

 **R.**


	21. This Was Aquamarine Not Turquoise

**DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters. Storyline's mine :)**

 **EdwardsFirstKiss, many thanks again.**

 **Enjoy. R.**

* * *

21\. Demi Lovato – Nightingale

* * *

CHAPTER 20

 **This Was Aquamarine. Not Turquoise.**

" _Somebody speak to me  
'Cause I'm feeling like hell  
Need you to answer me  
I'm overwhelmed  
I need a voice to echo  
I need a light to take me home  
I need a star to follow  
I don't know."_

" _I never see the forest for the trees  
I could really use your melody  
Baby I'm a little blind  
I think it's time for you to find me."_

" _Can you be my nightingale?  
Sing to me  
I know you're there  
You could be my sanity  
Bring me peace  
Sing me to sleep  
Say you'll be my nightingale."_

 _Saturday, April 6, 2013_ _(the next day)_

"You sure you're not coming?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said and felt awfully guilty. I tried to be as polite as I knew how to be, now that I knew Rose was a little bit sensitive when it came to me. "I have a lot of work to do. I need to mark my kids' papers, tidy up a bit… Besides, I don't feel like having company tonight."

"Are you sure? Edward's wife and daughter are coming. Don't you want to meet them?" Rosalie asked, and I inhaled deeply. I wasn't going to tell her that his wife was one of the reasons why I didn't want to come to Rosalie's dinner tonight. She intimidated me, and I didn't even know her. What would she make me feel like when I met her personally? I knew it was childish and I was a coward, but my instinct was telling me to back off. I was trying to be nice here. In fact, I was doing Rosalie a favor.

"I'm sure they're lovely, Rose, but I'd rather stay at home," I said for the tenth time during our conversation. "Look… what if… what if I come tomorrow?"

"Emmett's in the hospital tomorrow and I promised his mom I would stop by."

"Oh, okay."

"It's alright, honey, I won't insist. But if you change your mind, by all means, feel free to come."

"Sure. Thanks, Rose."

"You're welcome. Love you."

I hung up and sighed. I knew this dinner meant a lot to Rose as Edward's parents who were invited to wedding were also coming over. And I just wasn't ready to face Dr. Angelic, Edward, his mother, wife and his little daughter at once. Not yet. Somehow, I felt it being way too overwhelming for me now. It was like a monster that I knew I would have to face one day, but today was definitely not the day to experiment with my unstable disposition.

It had been around noon when Rosalie called. Since then, I had marked my kids' papers, did my laundry, vacuumed my carpets and cleaned my kitchen. I watched four SpongeBob episodes and then took a shower knowing I should eat something as I hadn't had eaten today yet. I opened the fridge and all I saw was one Greek yoghurt, maple syrup, whipping cream, two eggs, a carton of milk and one moldy lemon.

Fantastic.

I closed the fridge deciding I had nothing to eat anyway and went to bed. To ease the silence surrounding me, I put on my earphones and let Kanye sing into my ears to help me fall asleep sooner. His voice made me imagine weird pictures in front of me. I saw Rosalie and Emmett's place in a typical dinner setting. Lights were on, dimmed, and I imagined them all – Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, Dr. Angelic, his wife, Edward, Tanya and Katie all around the table, talking, joking, having fun. Dr. Angelic's wife would praise Rosalie's cooking skills whilst a monster Tanya would die of jealousy because secretly she knows Mrs. Cullen hates her. Or at least it was my wishful thinking. My imagination worked obviously pretty well. Dr. Angelic would be charming, as always, praising his son and telling him how proud he was of him. Little Katie would be the most adorable little human being in the world, making funny comments and making everyone love her. Alice would miss Jasper who was in New York but as a good friend she would support Rosalie and Emmett because that was what real friends did for each other. Rosalie would miss me for a while, but the big gathering would soon make her forget that one person is missing. Emmett would simply enjoy dinner without the presence of poor, despicable Bella Swan. And Edward? He would question my absence but make nothing of it. He would think it was just another one of my moody selfish decisions.

Yeah. I was better here, at home.

But Kanye didn't make me sleep. If anything, he made me more alert. It was already around ten o'clock and my mind once again entered that dreadful thinking space where everything seemed to be much worse than it really was. I was thinking of myself, how I should've just swallowed that unwillingness and go to Rosalie's dinner and be a good friend to her. I thought of how selfish I was. I thought of how strange it was in school lately, how the rumors died down a bit, but how I felt the eyes of my colleagues on me, the looks of pity, shame and even hate in their eyes. I thought of what Edward was talking about yesterday, if I really should start seeing someone in that non-committal kind of way. But I wasn't ready to let anyone in, let alone just as a distraction. I didn't need distractions, I needed to focus on what I had to deal with. I needed to focus on myself. But would I ever be able to let go of that pain, like Edward had said before? Would I ever be able to live a happy life?

I turned to my other side and started crying. I felt anxiety and hate and disgust with myself crawl up my body. Thinking I hated nights like this one, I got rid of the earphones, turned my lamp on and sat up, wiping my tears away. "Get it together, Bella, for Christ's sake," I muttered to myself, but it was only the words of no real power anymore.

I sobbed angrily, growling here and there as I let that shit go out. I stood up and walked nervously from one corner of the room to the other, calming my distressed body. I went into the kitchen and drank a little bit of water, but my stomach turned immediately, and I had to spit the rest of it into the sink. I returned back into my bedroom and looked at the clock. It was one hour after midnight. For how long had I been tossing around in bed for? I needed to get some sleep.

I sat down on bed, feeling like a total disaster, and cried some more. I cried and cried until I started to silently laugh at myself, at how just pathetic I was. I was horrible. I was such a mess! How could I let go of myself like this?

For some unknown reason, I grabbed my phone and immediately looked for Alice's number. It rang a few times but then her chirpy voice told me to leave a message. Damn, Alice. I thought about calling Rose, but she was in bed with Emmett and I knew he wouldn't appreciate my waking them both up in the middle of the night, especially when he was going to work tomorrow.

Should I call Edward?

We were friends, weren't we? And I needed to talk to someone, I guess. I needed to talk to someone who would tell me I was not insane. But what if I made him angry? What if I scared him away? _If you scare me away, then I wasn't a true friend. You have to kick people like that out of your life._ Does being a friend include calling someone in the middle of the night if you feel like shit?

I took the risk. I dialed his number and listened to the ringing tone repeat several times. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing. What was I doing? In a sudden realization, I ended the call, hoping I didn't wake him up. He would find a missed call in the morning, but I could say I dialed a wrong number or that I wasn't supposed to call anyone, but just didn't see properly and pushed wrong buttons on the phone.

Believable, right?

With a thumping heart I set the phone down and turned the lights off, lying back down to bed. I barely let my eyelids close before my phone started ringing. My heart started to beat loudly again and knowing it was Edward calling back, I sat up and reached for the phone. I watched the screen with his name on for two more rings before I pushed the green button and placed the phone close to my ear.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice hoarse, but there was panic to it I suddenly started to feel guilty for.

"Edward, it's just me."

He sighed in relief. "I know. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just… Forget it, Edward. I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you up. Go to sleep."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, my voice tight. "Nothing, I just… I just couldn't sleep because… just my head's a mess right now, and at the time it seemed like a good idea to talk to someone, but I didn't want to… just go to sleep, Edward. It's okay."

"Talk to me, Bella," he said, but it didn't sound strict as when he had ordered me to eat. It was more like a request. "Please. You didn't wake me up."

"I didn't?"

"No," he said. "I'm working."

I looked at the clock. It was almost two. "Now?"

He chuckled slightly. His voice sounded strange and hoarse but maybe he didn't speak to anyone for a while. "Yes, now. Talk to me. I'm listening."

I sighed. "It's just that… God, it sounds so silly right now." He didn't reply and for a while I thought he hung up, but I could hear him breathe. He was waiting. "I just… sometimes at nights I can't sleep, and I get anxious over the things in my life and then I cry and… Everything suddenly seems to be a nightmare for me. Well, a bigger nightmare than it usually is."

"That's understandable," he said matter-of-factly.

"Is it?"

"Of course. Anxiety is natural at this stage. Besides, there is a lot of pressure you put yourself under."

"Me?"

I heard him smile. "Bella, can I tell you something? Will you listen to me without getting offended?"

I smirked. "Me? Offended? Never."

He chuckled. "Just take a step back and tell me if I'm right, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed and was curious what he had to say.

"You are very ambitious, is that right?"

I frowned. "I used to be."

"You had big dreams you gave up on in order to please other people. You changed yourself in every environment you were in, like a chameleon, to make people like you. And do you know why?"

That one was easy. "They wouldn't want me. They wouldn't accept me for who I was."

"Exactly. You told this narrative to yourself so many times that you started to believe it. A child, especially the one who was so vulnerable and sensitive as you, who lost her mother, is very susceptible to negative reception made by other people. And as a counterreaction, to make yourself more likeable and prevent this rejection from happening again, you learned to change who you were in order to be more likeable."

I swallowed hard. "I know that, Edward."

"I know you know it," he said gently. "You know a lot of things about yourself you are afraid to admit." I sighed loudly and let him continue because I knew he wasn't done. "Partly, it was bad luck when it comes to the people you had in your life – including your father and his girlfriend. But partly you allowed those people to treat you that way. And maybe it felt even good for a while. You felt like you belonged, like they accepted you. But by being so submissive, people felt like they can use you as they please. It takes a real character not to take advantage of a person who is willing to do anything for a friend. Like Seth, for example."

Seth? He remembered Seth?

"I am not saying it is your fault. Under the circumstances, you wouldn't react to the situation any other way. We all have to cope with life in our own way. But in the process, you forgot about yourself. You put your dreams and your own self on the backburner."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked because he was incredibly right.

"What I'm trying to say is that you can only live a lie for that long. At the end, Jacob cheated on you with your best friend, your dad has never tried to look for you when you left. You had been afraid all that time that people you loved would leave you and they eventually did. It only proved you right and all that suspicions about you not being good enough were confirmed. That was another blow in your face and it sent you in a completely different direction."

"I stopped caring for anyone," I whispered.

"Yes," he agreed silently. "Including yourself. It was in your head. Another unhealthy narrative – _people leave. I don't matter._ "

"But, Edward, they do," I whined silently. "They do leave."

He was silent. Because I knew, and he knew as well that I was right. People leave. People leave and betray and lie. "But it is not the reason for you to give up on yourself."

"I just…"

"I know," he said. Again. "I know."

"But how do I… How do I manage to survive it? How do I survive another blow?"

"As long as you let people know the real you, as long as you remember the strength inside of you, you'll survive. Because if they leave… they weren't worthy of you. And, just for the record, people who belong in your life and who love you and care for you never leave for good. They might not be near, but…" his voice softened as if he got lost in thought. "They are still there for you anytime you need them.

"The reason you feel the way you do, Bella, is because you can't handle this lie anymore. You are going through a serious identity crisis. You became codependent, you seek validation and approval in other people, in your sexual relationships… You keep changing all the time, suppressing your true self… You cannot be satisfied in life if you keep yourself from things that make you happy, from people you love just because you're afraid they will leave. You're at the crossroads and that's why it hurts. You're about to discover yourself. You're about to do something brave."

"But… But it's either me being happy and rejected, or me being loved but secretly unhappy."

"No, it's not. It has to be you being loved and happy," he insisted passionately. "Give people in your life a chance, Bella. You're pushing everyone away. Give them a chance to get to know you and love you with everything bad and good you hide."

I sighed in frustration. "Edward, I know, but it's so hard!"

"Well, if you don't allow yourself to make that step, Bella, you will suffer. You're in a burning house now. The life you created yourself, that lie, is a burning house and your only chance is to take a jump out of the window because that life is not available anymore. It is a risk, yes. But you have no other choice. You're being stopped by the fear. Either this, or you burn down with a house. And you know you don't want that. Nobody does."

I started to cry silently. "But that's so scary. That's all I have ever known. What if I fall badly? What if I break something? What if it will hurt so bad I will never walk again?"

I heard him chuckle silently. "What if I told you a secret?"

"What secret?"

I heard him inhale deeply. "I'll be there to catch you."

I let out a shaky breath. "Will you?"

"Yes. Do you trust me enough to jump?"

Did I? He was here, wasn't he? He didn't go away, not yet, anyway. "Well, you're here now. How do I know you'll stay there?"

"That's why I'm asking if you trust me."

"I do," I breathed. "I do trust you, Edward."

He smiled, I knew he did. "Then I'll be ready whenever you are. Remember, the longer you stay up there, the longer you suffer."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

There was a silence on the other side that I appreciated. It wasn't awkward, it was actually pretty comfortable. It was that connection again I had felt before. Slowly, this man was making his way to me and I knew that by trusting him, I made the first step towards the window already.

We didn't speak for almost ten minutes.

"I'm glad you called," he said after a while. His voice wasn't so passionate anymore. It was calm and velvety.

"Yeah, me too. Are you sure it was okay?"

"Yes, stop feeling guilty, Bella."

"Okay," I said. "I owe you a pizza."

"For what?"

"For taking my call."

He chuckled. "You don't owe me anything."

"Stop it. We're going for pizza someday soon."

"Sure thing. Whatever you want."

"Whatever?" I asked teasingly, and it sounded awfully lot like flirting. _Get a grip, Bella_. "Sorry, that was inappropriate."

He just chuckled silently. "Maybe a little. Don't worry, I won't tell." There was another silence and despite this little awkward exchange, it wasn't uncomfortable. "Was this the reason you hadn't showed up at Emmett's place today?"

"What? Me flirting?"

He chuckled. "No. Did you feel not well enough to be around people today to come to dinner?" he asked, and it didn't sound like he was accusing me of anything, just stating a fact.

"Kind of," I admitted. "Dinners are not my cup of tea."

"My dad was quite eager to see you and ask you how you're doing."

That surprised me. "Really? We saw each other a week ago when I came for my injections."

"He is very fond of you," Edward said, his voice very kind as if he was amused by his dad's relationship with me.

"That's hard to believe. I wasn't very nice to him on multiple occasions," I said, and it was true. I had lied to him a lot.

"You see? That's a good example. He's the kind of person who saw you when you weren't at your best, yet he still likes you a lot. He's the kind of person to keep in your life."

I sighed. I had never looked at it that way. "Am I really that ungrateful, Edward?"

"No," he said. "Maybe. A little. You just fail to see these people because you automatically believe they are all the same. Don't worry. It'll get better once you start to consciously evaluate the people you meet and recognize their qualities."

"Sounds fancy."

He chuckled. "Sorry. That's just the way I talk sometimes."

"Don't apologize. It's kind of sexy." The silence on the other side made me realize what I just said. "I am so sorry. Seriously. I'll shut up now."

"Don't worry about that. As long as I can hear you get excited about something, it's worth it."

"You just didn't say that…"

"What?"

"You just basically gave me a permission to hit on you, Edward."

"Did I?"

I sighed. "Are you mocking me?"

"Never," he said, and I heard him chuckle. "I apologize. It was… it just makes me laugh. It is true what I said – it's unusual to see you relax and smile. I don't really mind, I know it is completely innocent."

Innocent… well. It is in my interest to let him believe that. "You know, it's interesting to see that you immediately recognize my flirting while you don't recognize a male waiter trying to get into your pants."

"Hey! That's not fair, I wasn't paying attention."

"Whatever," I said. "I know what I saw."

"You're incorrigible," he said but he was smiling.

That made me smile. We fell into a comfortable silence again that must have lasted for at least another ten minutes. "Have ever people left you?"

He didn't reply immediately, and I thought that maybe he fell asleep. "Yes."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Wasn't I supposed to ask that? "I'm sorry. I don't want to pry."

"No, no, that's okay," he answered immediately. "It's just that… I haven't really talked about it for a long time. Or thought about it, actually."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I said, and I meant it. I was dying to know more about him, but I didn't want to push him into anything. I knew how that felt.

"It's okay. But maybe another time. You should go to sleep, it's almost half past three."

"Is it?" I asked and looked at the clock. Yes, he was right.

"Yeah. If you haven't slept all night, you need to get at least a little bit of rest."

"You haven't either."

"What?"

"You haven't slept either."

"No, no, I haven't," he agreed eagerly.

"Can you… hm," I cleared my throat. Was it okay to ask him? "Can you stay on the phone for a little bit more? We don't have to talk. I just… I mean, you don't have to if you're too sleepy or something-"

"Sure, I can," he cut me off gently. "Are you lying in your bed for me now?"

And I just laughed when I realized what he just asked, but it wasn't really that much about _what_ he asked but _how_ he asked it. His voice was generally quite low and silent throughout the whole conversation, but this question just didn't come out right. "Oh, Edward."

"What?"

"Have you really just asked that?"

There was a silence on the other side. "Oh, crap. Bella, I'm so sorry." He sounded so embarrassed. "You should get your head out of the gutter."

"I so don't have my head in the gutter. Besides, it's okay," I said, and it really was. It sounded awfully a lot like a beginning of phone sex and while it normally would make me wet with anticipation, the innocence of it all made it sound incredibly funny. "Made me laugh."

"Good then. So, are you in your bed now?"

"Edward!" I said but laughed.

"What?" he asked, laughing too.

"Yes, I'm in my bed. Are you?"

"No," he said, and it sounded like he was saying that it would be the last place he would want to be. "I'm in the garden."

"It must be freezing outside."

"It's okay. It's not that cold. A fairly clear night."

"You're watching the stars?"

He was silent for a while. "Yes. I'm watching the stars."

"Okay," I said. "I should go to sleep now."

"Yeah, you should. I'll stay on the phone."

I smiled to myself. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said softly, and it made my heart jump a little. "Goodnight, Bella. Sleep well."

"Thanks. Goodnight to you, too, Edward."

He didn't say anything more. I closed my eyes and focused on his breath on the other side. I expected him to hang up a few minutes after that, but he didn't. If I focused enough I could hear his steps on the ground, the sound of the wind blowing around him. I concentrated on the sounds, on the rhythm of his breath and soon I was out. In the morning, I woke up with the phone still in my hand. When I checked the duration of the call, my phone said one hundred eighty-four minutes – three hours and four minutes. I was sure we didn't talk for more than an hour and a half.

Why had he stayed on the phone for another hour and a half?

 _Tuesday, April 9, 2013_ _(3 days later)_

I was running late, of course. When I saw him standing by that old scraggy tree like I had on Friday, I smiled, relieved he didn't leave.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I breathed when I reached him, startling him a little. I had been running, so I waited for a while before speaking to catch my breath. "I got caught up in work."

"No problem. Is everything alright?" he asked, concern on his face.

"Sure. Just… it was a long day."

"Do you want to go home?"

I shook my head. No, no. I was looking forward to seeing him. For some strange reason. "No. I could actually use a walk. You alright with that?"

He nodded, and we started strolling slowly around the park. It was a nice day today. Not very sunny, but it wasn't as windy as one would expect it to be. "Here, take this," he said after a while, handing me a drug prescription.

"What's this?"

"A new antidepressant. Should make you eat more."

I raised my brows. "Am I too thin for you?"

He didn't comment on the wording of the question. "As a matter of fact, yes. You're way too thin for anyone. How much have you lost? Ten, fifteen pounds?" I looked away. I'd lost fourteen pounds in last four weeks.

"What time did you hang up on Saturday night?" I asked after a while, changing the topic.

"Technically, it was already Sunday."

I rolled my eyes. "Details. You know what I mean."

"After you fell asleep."

I looked at his profile. "How did you know when I was asleep?"

"I knew."

"But how?"

He sighed and turned to me. "Your breath deepened. You started shuffling with the phone, you must have had it under your face," he said matter-of-factly, but it felt like he wasn't telling me something. "I knew."

I decided not to ask him about a three-hour phone call. Maybe he just forgot about it. Maybe he put it somewhere in the garden and returned to it later, not wanting to listen to my snoring. We fell into a comfortable silence again and watched the park around us.

"I don't know anything about you," he said suddenly.

I snorted. "You know everything about me."

"In a way. But I don't know what music you like, what is your favorite show, movie, color, actor, food, beverage…"

"You know my favorite cartoon and that I am a pineapple pizza girl. You know I love SpongeBob, Kanye West and martini. What else is there to know?"

"A lot."

"For example?"

"What's your favorite fruit?"

"Seriously?"

He nodded, his face didn't show any signs of joke. I sighed, thinking for a while. "Blueberries."

"Favorite vegetable?"

"Nah. I don't have any."

"You don't like them?"

"I am… impartial to vegetables. What about you? What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?"

"Strawberries and tomatoes. Also, I love anchovies."

I made a face. "Eww. Who likes anchovies?"

"I do."

My eyes widened. "Just don't tell me you put them on your pizza."

He smiled. "Sometimes."

"But not with pineapple."

He shook his head, amused. "No, not with pineapple."

I exhaled in relief. "Well, that would be a crime."

"I can only imagine," he said, smiling.

"It would! I don't want to even imagine the taste. Ew."

"So, you don't like fish," he made a conclusion.

"No, not really. My dad used to fish a lot, so maybe that's why. We had it all the time."

"What music do you listen to? Except for Kanye West?" he continued with his interrogation.

"Sad music. Ballads. I love piano and acoustic instrumental music. Don't listen to it as much as I used to. It's hard to find artists of a good quality when it comes to this kind of music."

Edward was silent for a while and when I looked at his face I saw him looking at me, eyes open-wide. "Really?"

I felt strange. "Yes? Is that weird?"

He shook his head. "No, no… I'm just impressed."

"I know. Kanye is not the type of musician that would make you believe I can listen to piano or even classical music."

"Do you?" And now his voice sounded even more shocked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. "As I said, not as much as I used to."

"Who's your favorite classical artist?"

"I don't think I have a favorite one. I love Ravel's Bolero. The anticipation, the gradation of it is just amazing. Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Debussy's Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun… oh and Clair de Lune? So much pain and happiness in one composition… Makes you think about life." When I looked back at Edward, his eyes were wide and his mouth open. Did I say something wrong? Was it too weird? He looked like he was thinking about something. Hard.

"Who would've thought?" he asked finally, and his face regained a normal complexion.

I got a little offended here. "Is that so hard to believe? That I would actually know any of it?"

"No, no, no!" he said immediately. "No, I just… Forget it," he said, looking confused.

"What is it? Tell me."

He sighed. "I just had a strange, really strong sense of déja-vu. And yes, it is a little surprising, but… in a good way. Debussy's my favorite."

I smiled. "You see? We have something in common except for pineapple pizza."

We looked away from each other, strolling down the path slowly before he asked his next question. We talked about animals, movies, TV shows. Random things. I learned that his favorite movie of all time was The Godfather and that he always wanted a dog, but that his wife was allergic to both cats and dogs. He said he didn't watch reality TV shows because they were dumb, and I admitted to seeing a few episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, defending myself by saying that I had done so only to check out Kanye's newest woman. Totally legit. We walked for a long time, sun already sat down, but we kept chatting about random stuff and I have to admit I liked it a lot.

"Favorite color?"

"Blue," I answered without a beat. "Whatever shade. But I hate turquoise." I shuddered at the thought. So bright and… awful. Edward looked at me with a raised eyebrow and laughed. "Yours?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, looking in front of him at something not specific. "White."

"Why?" I looked at him.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. I like the… simplicity of it. Everything in life is too complex, too… damaged. White is pure, gentle. It's a difference to what we as human beings have to deal with every day, the concepts we need to understand. Why blue for you?" he asked.

"I love the ocean. The crystal-clear waters of southern seas, the dark haunting northern oceans…"

"Do you realize that crystal-clear water tends to be turquoise?"

"That's not turquoise!" I said, rolling my eyes. "Oh you, mortal people."

He looked at me. "Mortal people?"

"Shades, Edward. Shades. Colors have shades – a darkness or lightness that determines different shades of colors." My tone was not mean, merely mocking.

He smiled widely at me. "Oh, okay, I forgot I'm talking to a painter."

I looked away from him. "I'm not a painter."

He didn't reply straight away. "So, what shade of crystal-clear water do you like?"

"Turquoise is a shade of a blue color. Or cyan blue, there are several classifications. But not going into details, crystal-clear waters of the seas in the south are aquamarine."

"That makes sense now," he mocked me, and I slapped his arm playfully.

"It so does! If you saw them side by side, you would recognize the difference immediately," I said, knowing I was right. There was no way he would ever misidentify the two if he actually compared them. "I know. I'll show you. I'll show you the difference. Come," I said and took his forearms, tugging him to follow me.

"Where are we going?"

"To the shop where they sell the paints. I'll show you the difference."

I heard him laugh behind me, but he followed. There was a couple of stores with paining equipment in downtown Seattle. I had never walked into one, but I knew about every one of them. As luck would have it, there was one only ten minutes' walk away from the park and before I knew it, we were standing in front of it. Without much thinking we entered it and the familiar smell attacked my nose. Amazing. I looked around myself to gain a sense of orientation and soon I spotted a rack full of paints of blue shades. I just found a holy grail, I swear. The feeling of excitement was there with me again as I watched the rack of water-based colors of the shades I hadn't even dreamed of.

"Can I help you with something?"

I turned to a young woman standing in front of us, her hair pink in two ponytails. "No, thanks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I replied and grabbed Edward's wrist.

She eyed me quizzically. "Okay. If you need something, I'm behind the counter."

"Thanks," I said, and dragged Edward to the rack full of paints. For the first time since we left the park I looked at him and saw his eyes on me wide, quite confused. I chuckled silently and turned to the rack, knowing immediately where to look for the turquoise and where for aquamarine. Some shops were usually selling just the basic colors because painters mixed those colors to achieve the desired shade. But this was a special shop, and I knew that. I knew that because even if I had never been here, I was way too intrigued not to look up information about it. I held up two tubes in my right hand with little openings to face Edward as the openings were in two different shades – aquamarine and turquoise – to indicate what paint was inside. "So?"

He finally looked down to look at the paints as if he forgot that this was the very reason why we came here. He scrunched up his nose and looked back up at me, smirking crookedly. "Not really a big difference."

I groaned but couldn't help and chuckle. "You can see it. Please, please, tell me you see it. Lie to me if you have to. Just tell me you see it," I said, looking down at the shiny tubes. How long was it since I had new tubes of paints in my hands?

"Okay," he said, his voice soft now. "I see it, Bella. I see the difference."

I returned my eyes to his face and saw he was smiling at me softly, his eyes sparkling. I reciprocated the smile. "Thank you," I said. My eyes darted down again, and I longingly eyed the paints, knowing I had to put them back on the rack. I turned and did so quickly, turning back to Edward. "So, shall we go now?" I asked Edward and turned to the exit, but he stopped me by grabbing my left wrist gently. As far as I knew it was dead and I knew I wasn't able to feel his touch, but his fingers ignited the weirdest feeling in the depth of my hand, sending conscious shivers up my hand.

"Do you want them?"

"What?" I turned to him, still quite confused by the commotions in my wrist. His face was unreadable.

"Do you want the paints?"

I looked back at the rack and shook my head. "Of course not," I said, smiling tightly. "What would I do with them?"

He frowned but let go of me. We left the shop and I tried my best to swallow the lump in my throat. We walked side by side without a word for a couple of minutes, not knowing where. "I'll walk you home," he said. It was a ten-minute walk from the shop. If he left his car in the spot he had the last time, he had a good twenty-five-minute walk back to it from where I lived.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," he replied. "It's quite dark. You never know what might happen."

A warm feeling spread in my chest as I nodded without much fighting. We didn't talk much as we were walking, each of us in our own world. We spent a lot of time together today and I could feel him by my side even without looking at him. It was strange how fast we got comfortable with each other, how easy the conversation flew, that we could laugh and talk about both serious and not so serious topics without him turning into a crazy Dr. Psycho; I almost forgot about that side of him. I still felt kind of apprehensive at times purely out of habit, but when I checked last time, he was okay, being simply Edward. He was smiling and laughing, joking and letting himself go with me, from time to time looking at me with those searching eyes and now I knew what he was doing. He did it every time he didn't understand and tried to figure me out. I never pointed it out, though. Never answered his unspoken questions. If he wanted to know what I was thinking, all he needed to do was ask.

Also, Edward was logical. For that short period of time I knew him, I knew Edward was rational, first and foremost. Edward approached problems and mysteries with almost admirable need to understand and solve them as well as he could. He was a doctor, a scientist. It was a part of his job. I knew that one of the reasons why he came up with this arrangement was to resolve the mystery of who I was. And while he had admitted it and denied at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to resent him for it. Because there was a part of me that felt his words and actions were honest and selfless. I was starting to believe he was on my side. So maybe, maybe if I let him to solve the mystery that I was for him, it would help me to get on the right track and find the peace within myself. I knew we were slowly getting comfortable with each other and the thought frightened me as well as thrilled me. Frightened me because my mind couldn't overlook the fact he was a shrink, and thrilled because so far, I was perfectly honest with him, I was being Bella and he didn't run away. He was becoming my friend.

"We're here," he said when we reached our building. I was about to be sarcastic with saying something like _Don't you say,_ but I opted for just being quiet. He gave me a warm smile and I smiled in return because you just did so when Edward Cullen smiled at you. "See you on Friday?"

I nodded. "On Friday." Which seemed to be way too far away from now.

"Goodbye, Bella," he said, turning away to go back.

"Goodbye, Dr. Cullen."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and I thought I heard him mutter _incorrigible_ under his breath but maybe it was just a rustle of the wind that got stronger with upcoming night. I watched his retreating back for a few seconds and then climbed the stairs up to my apartment, feeling light and content.

I might have not known at that time what the deal was between me and him, but I felt like he was going to be a good influence for me. Feeling rather hungry – as I usually did these days – I decided it was time to eat. I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich and watched a little bit of TV before taking a quick shower and changing into my PJs. I felt very… good. Yeah, I felt actually that well, that I took my medications. All of them.

When I was about to go to sleep and turned my lights off, I suddenly heard a loud knock coming from my living room. I froze, not sure if I heard correctly and when the sound repeated again, my heart started to beat fast. I went into the living room, realizing the sound was coming from my door. I slowly approached it and looked outside through the peephole and when I saw Edward, I sighed in relief.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when I opened the door.

"Hey. I'm sorry if I woke you up," he said and looked a bit disheveled, his hair standing up as if he ran up the stairs.

"No, you didn't."

"I just…" he trailed off and lifted a paper bag I didn't notice he was holding. He handed it to me. "You forgot this."

I frowned in confusion and looked inside, seeing two tubes of water-based paints – one aquamarine and one turquoise blue. I stared blankly at them and then at Edward. "But… Edward, I didn't forget anything, I told you I don't-"

"Keep them. Just… keep them, okay?" It was hard to read his face at this point, but I simply nodded. "Okay."

We stared at each other and for a few moments I thought I was dreaming. Another one of the surreal moments I shared with Edward. "Goodnight, Bella. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Edward," I said and watched him walk away, dumbstruck and speechless.


End file.
